


The Curse of 100 Kisses

by FictionAddictions23



Category: One Piece
Genre: Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Roronoa Zoro, Bottom Vinsmoke Sanji, Coming Out, Crossdressing, Curses, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Humor, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Homosexuality, One True Pairing, Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Romance, Rough Sex, Top Roronoa Zoro, Top Vinsmoke Sanji, True Love's Kiss, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 77,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionAddictions23/pseuds/FictionAddictions23
Summary: When Sanji picks up a unique "curse," Zoro offers his help to keep the cook alive. It turns out that the swordsman actually likes kissing the cook, and Sanji must come to terms with his own feelings once the situation escalates.





	1. Lola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Lola" by The Kinks

Everything had started with a kiss. Perhaps that was a little cliché, but it was undeniably an accurate statement to describe how the incredible events had begun. It was truly amazing how much could be affected by one seemingly insignificant exchange, all because of the unpredictable nature of Devil Fruits.

The Straw Hat pirates had just docked the Thousand Sunny after sailing through a disastrous storm. It had been a particularly nasty one, even for the Grand Line, and it had left the entire crew just as beaten and battered as their ship. Chopper, Usopp, and Franky had their hands full with patching up the crew and ship alike, and the kitchen was woefully under-stocked after the long week of storms, typhoons, and freak lightning and hail showers that had delayed their course on the way to the next island.

Most of the crew had stayed behind on the Sunny to get some well-deserved rest after battling the ferocious ocean for the past seven days, but the Monster Trio would never be caught taking it easy upon arriving at an unfamiliar place when new adventures, strong challengers, or delicious local cuisine could be waiting in store for them; Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji headed straight into town and were promptly separated by the distant scent of a meat vendor that captured the attention of their captain, a particularly complicated roundabout (or at least, it seemed that way to the directionally-challenged swordsman), and the enthusiastic wave of a beautiful barmaid beckoning for the women-loving cook to enter her place of work.

The bar was seedy at best, but Sanji had been willingly swept inside by the insistent smile of the lovely lady standing in front of the doors. He hadn’t been planning to drink before at least restocking the food and supplies needed to feed the crew over the next leg of their journey, but he simply couldn’t deny such a gorgeous maiden her attempt at seducing him into the establishment. He resolved to buy a few beers, chat up some beautiful women (dancing with at least two), and ask around for information on the island’s best culinary delicacies.

He had finished two beers and complimented no less than twelve tipsy sweethearts when _she_ caught his eye—a woman wearing a modest, floor-length dress was twirling her way through the crowd of dancers, her long blond hair floating around a slim, curvaceous figure as she moved in perfect harmony with the music. She was the epitome of the social butterfly, skirting from one dancing man to another and gracing each one with a moment of her time and attention. Sanji’s eyes followed her movements for a few short minutes before deciding that he  _must_ join her for a dance. A moment later, he had gently caught her elbow as she nearly twirled past him during her next round on the dance floor.

“You are an exquisite sight for the eyes, my dear! I couldn’t bear to simply watch your performance from afar, so I’ve come to humbly implore you for a dance,” he told her smoothly. Hearts blossomed in his eyes when she turned to look at him from beneath long, dark lashes, and he saw that she had an equally attractive face. It was painted skillfully with a large amount of extravagant make-up that filled the space around her blue eyes, making them appear large and inviting within the colorful pattern. Her lips were painted ruby-red to match the trim of her black gown, drawing attention to the single endearing beauty mark above her lip.

“Why thank you, sir. It’s not often that I’m payed such an elegantly worded compliment, and it is especially welcome from a handsome, well-dressed man such as yourself.”

Her voice was deep and sultry, seeming to come from the back of her throat with an enticing vibrato that Sanji swore he could feel rumbling in his bones. He smiled with pleasure and quickly brought her hand to his face to softly brush her knuckles against his lips. “My lady, your kind words outdo me! Please allow me to make your acquaintance so that I may compliment your beauty and grace even further! My name is Sanji.”

She laughed a little behind her hand and said, “I’m Lola. You chose the perfect time to seek my attention, Sanji. I’m celebrating a long-awaited achievement tonight.”

“How wonderful! May I ask what special occasion is being honored, beautiful Lola-chan?”

Before she had a chance to answer, the two of them were approached by another man vying for her attentions. Sanji recognized his obnoxiously red hair from earlier and was sure that he had been one of the dancers among the crowd when sweet Lola had been dashing from person to person. The redhead stepped up to her side and took hold of her elbow in a rough parody of the gesture that Sanji had used to politely claim her attention.

“Lola, baby! How about another one of your sweet kisses before I call it a night, eh?” The man leaned towards Lola, lips puckered as though he expected her to reciprocate.

“Hey assface!” Sanji snapped, shoving the man back a step with the heel of his shoe. “She didn’t say you could do that! Don’t disrespect a lady with such a direct attack before gaining her consent. What are you, an animal?!”

The man stumbled backwards, his eyes darting to Sanji’s long leg, which had practically teleported from the ground to block his advances. He rubbed the spot on his chest where the strong kick had connected and shot Sanji a look of pure irritation. “What’s your deal, man? It’s just Lola. She likes it.”

The cigarette hanging in Sanji’s mouth bent as his teeth snapped together around it. “What did you just say, bastard?! How dare you talk about her like that?!”

He knocked the offending man onto his ass with another well-placed blow, though he hadn’t needed anywhere near half of his real kicking strength for this drunken ape.

“Oh dear…” Lola exclaimed sullenly, her lovely lips pursing in an attractive pout. “Although I’d like to commend you for fighting for a lady’s honor, you diverted my one-hundredth kiss after I worked so hard to draw him in! I guess you’ll just have to take his place,” she told him slyly.

Lola gave him no time to consider her words before she caught Sanji’s face in a rough grip and slowly drew it toward hers. He leaned into it automatically, happy to feel the firm press of her lips against his willing mouth. His mind reeled when the contact ignited sparks of electricity, which seemed to flow into him in a steady current. He froze, too stunned by the odd sensation travelling through his veins to respond in his usual enthusiastic manner. It spread to every inch of his body, leaving behind an odd tingling in the tips of his fingers and toes as she pulled back and smiled triumphantly.

“Have a nice life, buddy!”

Sanji blinked, too shell-shocked to recognize the subtle difference in Lola’s tone of voice as she swept away from him on the dance floor. He only registered the fact that she’d kissed him so intensely and had set his blood ablaze with some sort of strange…magic—that was the first word that came into his mind when he tried to describe the result of their connection.

He had no idea how painfully close to the truth he was.

***

The log pose would take another five days to set, giving the Straw Hats plenty of time to prepare for cast-off and enjoy the unique culture of Loa, an island with unusually devout inhabitants who all seemed to share a strong sense of reverence and pride for history—not unlike a certain archaeologist aboard the Sunny.

“The natives seem to have a deep respect for the ancient ruins that reside here,” Robin remarked, running an appreciative bunch of hands along the tall surface of an impressively preserved stone carving. “It looks as though these artifacts are regularly maintained to keep them from being overrun by wildlife.”

“I simply LOVE hearing you talk so ardently about historical ruins, Robin-chan! You always sound so knowledgeable and passionate!”

Sanji smiled widely at his beautiful crewmate and hefted their supply-pack into a steadier position on his shoulders. He had offered to come along on her expedition in order to remove any burden she may have had to carry on the long trek through the jungles of Loa. Robin had gratefully accepted his help and wasted no time in putting him to work. Sanji was in charge of the pack full of archaeological tools, reference material, and food and drink. He happily laboured for his love as she directed him throughout the many historical sites, assisting her in any way and taking on all of the heavy lifting without complaint.

By the end of the day, Sanji was surprised to discover that he had thoroughly exhausted his resources of energy and had actually found the physical activity _strenuous_ —not that he would ever admit it to his lovely Robin-chan, who had offered to share the load on many occasions only to be politely declined. It was the man’s job to lighten his lady’s workload, after all. However, the astutely observant Robin was not to be fooled by his constant reassurances that the work was no trouble.

“Perhaps we should take a short break before returning to the ship,” she suggested smoothly.

“That’s not necessary, my sweet. It’ll be dinnertime soon, and I’ll need to prepare something extra nutritious to replenish the energy you spent during today’s expedition.” He smiled brightly, his expression faltering as he considered her needs. “But of course, if you feel like you need to rest then please take all of the time that you need!” he amended hastily.

Robin’s perceptive gaze shifted to the light sheen of sweat that had formed on Sanji’s forehead—she took note of the slowly damping locks of his golden hair that were beginning to plaster to his face from the effort, the barely concealed labour of his breathing, and the nearly imperceptible racing of his heartbeat.

“I’m perfectly rested, thanks to you, Cook-san. Would you like a few of my hands to help transport some of these items?” Robin asked, making arms blossom around his feet while she waited for his answer. She was tactful enough to refrain from mentioning how out-of-character it was for Sanji to be so visibly winded after a few hours of routine archaeological tasks, no matter how arduous they would have been for a normal man.

He had noticed a subtle weakness in his body as the day had progressed and wondered if he had accidentally prepared an under-balanced breakfast before leaving that morning—but no, there was no way he had miscalculated something as important as a full, healthy breakfast. Why, then, did he feel as if he’d just finished a much more difficult workout than he actually had?

“My dear Robin-chan is worried about my health! Such a thoughtful, heartfelt sentiment makes me want to climb a mountain and sing my gratitude for all the world to hear, but then who would be left to carry the fruits of your labour that we worked so hard to collect?” he asked her ardently. Robin’s eyes narrowed with suspicion before she returned his smile and politely withdrew her extra hands.

“As you wish, Sanji-kun. Let’s get moving before it starts to get dark then.”

“After you, Robin-chwan!” He lifted the pack higher on his aching shoulders and followed his crewmate with his typical love-struck expression, carefully masking his trepidation. _When the hell did I become so soft?_ he wondered as his muscles screamed in protest. _I’m sure I’ll feel better after a good rest…_

***

The second day, however, proved to be no easier than the last. Sanji awoke with a dull throbbing in his temples—nothing he couldn’t handle as he went about his morning routine of preparing breakfast for the crew and herding his shipmates into the galley, but the distracting ache caused him to slightly overcook the last batch of pancakes while he thought about possible remedies for the annoying pain. Luckily, no one noticed his minor lapse in concentration, and the less than perfect flapjacks ended up in the rubber stomach of a very unobservant captain.

“How are you feeling today, Cook-san?” Robin asked over breakfast. Her unexpected question caught the attention of a few members of the crew, but Sanji played it off as casually as he had yesterday.

“I couldn’t possibly have anything to complain about when you lovely ladies are gracing my presence!” he said sweetly, twirling his way to the table with two delicious fruit cups for the beautiful females. The sudden action caused a brief spotting of grey to cloud his vision, but his smile remained in place as he gracefully placed the dishes in front of the women.

“Were you not feeling well yesterday, Sanji-kun?” Nami asked conversationally, tipping a spoon of fruit into her luscious mouth.

He was momentarily distracted by her lips sucking the juices from that spoon, but he quickly replied, “I’m right as rain, Nami-swan! How kind of you to worry about me—I’m overjoyed to be on the receiving end of your concern! Can I get you anything else with your meal? Perhaps some more coffee? Robin-chan?”

The two women waved him off and returned to their food. Nami’s attention was quickly redirected to Luffy as she scolded him from trying to sneak extra food from her plate, while Robin turned to quietly watch the swordsman’s reaction to their exchange. Zoro hadn’t even looked up from his rapidly shrinking pile of pancakes and was seemingly ignorant to the world around him as he shoveled the fluffy circles into his mouth. He didn’t comment when their other crewmates addressed the cook’s well-being.

“Sanji knows that he can come to me if he’s ever feeling under the weather, right Sanji?” Chopper piped up sweetly, though he was only half-focused as he coated his tower of pancakes in enough syrup to drown a man.

“The immune system can always use a little help, so be sure to drink lots of milk to strengthen your bones! I know a thing or two about strong bones being a living skeleton and all. Yohohohoho!” Brook cackled goodnaturedly.

“If you’re feeling okay then hurry and make me more of these yummy pancakes—with some meat to wash it down!” Luffy demanded through a mouthful of food.

“You’re not getting any more pancakes today, you damn rubber glutton! I’ve already fed you enough to make a significant dent in the stores of flour that I just restocked!” Sanji’s foot came down on Luffy’s hand, pinning it to the table before he could succeed in stealing from Nami’s plate. “I suppose I should grab an extra bag or two before we cast off just to be safe,” he added absently to himself.

Shortly afterwards, the crew began trickling out of the kitchen as their food disappeared. Nami and Zoro were the last at the table when Sanji began clearing the dirty plates in preparation to wash the dishes. The lady seemed to be savouring the taste of her second cup of coffee, while Zoro moodily pushed around the remaining scraps of pancake that had become soggy with sickly-sweet syrup; he didn’t enjoy sweet things and was always reluctant to finish the last few pieces. Nami took one more sip from her mug and stood to leave the galley.

“Don’t leave a single bite, or Sanji-kun will give you hell like he did last time,” she said coyly on her way out.

“I’m not gonna waste it. You don’t have to tell me that,” Zoro grumbled, shoving every last trace of pancake into his mouth and swallowing with a comically scrunched up expression of disgust. “Ick. I’m all done, Cook,” he announced, holding out the empty plate towards Sanji, who was on the opposite side of the room filling the sink with soapy water.

“You’re so damn lazy, marimo. I’m not your friggin’ butler,” Sanji snapped in annoyance. He stomped across the room, ignoring the constant, throbbing pain in his temple that was increasing with each step, and snatched the plate out of the swordsman’s tight grip—or he _tried_ to, but his fingers slipped from the edge when the strength in Zoro’s fingers overpowered his own. They accidentally released the plate at the same time, and it shattered on the wooden floor, spreading shards of glass beneath their feet. “Shit. There goes a perfectly good plate. You eat like an animal anyways, so you may as well lick it clean of syrup next time so that it doesn’t slip,” he said hastily, dropping to the floor to pick up the shards.

Zoro watched him with a silent scowl. “Oi,” he snapped, suddenly lurching forward to slap the cook’s hands away as he was reaching for a piece. “Your hands are shaking, curly-brow. Where the fuck is your head? Even I know not to pick up glass with my bare hands. You’re gonna hurt yourself, shit-head.”

Sanji glared at him and defiantly plucked a few of the bigger shards off the floor, carefully transferring them to the trash bin just to prove that he could do it without injuring himself. “You’re imagining things. My hands are just as steady as they’ve always been. Mind your own business,” he said casually with an underlying hardness that the swordsman immediately picked up on.

Zoro narrowed his eyes, watching the other man suspiciously as he brought over a broom and dustpan to finish disposing of the mess. The cook only made it halfway to the floor, sliding instead into the closest chair as if he had suddenly changed his mind on his next course of action. He paused after taking a seat, leaning against the broom for support with forced nonchalance.

“Why should I clean up after you? Like I said, I’m not your butler.”

Sanji winced inwardly, hoping that Zoro hadn’t heard the slight gasp that had escaped when a brief wave of dizziness swept over him along with another momentary spotting of his vision. He stared at his hands, white-knuckled around the broom handle, as he tried to quickly catch his breath. _Must’ve bent down too suddenly_ , he thought defiantly.  

“It was half your fault anyway, shit-cook, but you did get the cleaning started, so I guess that’s fair,” Zoro told him reasonably, surprising the blond. Suddenly, the broom and dustpan were out Sanji’s hands, and Zoro was kneeling in front of the shattered plate as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to sweep the galley floor.

“Wha—?”

Sanji just gaped at him because it was incredibly rare for Zoro to agree to do something as mundane as chores without at least the pretense of grumbling in annoyance. Before he could comment on it, the floor was bare and the remaining shards had been dumped into the bin along with the pieces Sanji had collected. The weirdness continued when Zoro strolled over to the sink, dunked another plate under the soapy water, and began methodically scrubbing away. Sanji must have made some kind of shocked noise because he turned to look at the blond over his shoulder.

“You gonna sit there staring at me all day or what?”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Sanji asked, irrationally angry.

Zoro turned back to his task, setting aside the clean plate and adding another to the water. “Are you stupid? I’m doing the dishes—it’s my turn to wash.” When Sanji remained silent, he added. “Thanks for getting the water ready. You can go now, curly. Take a break and relax for once.”

It was then that Sanji understood why the other man had been acting so strange after the plate had shattered—he'd noticed that the cook really _wasn’t_ feeling well like he’d said. The realization left him with conflicting feelings of anger, because the shitty-swordsman had acknowledged Sanji’s weakness, confusion, because he hadn’t said a word about it other than mentioning his shaky hands, and perhaps even the tiniest bit of begrudging respect for the casual way in which Zoro had offered his help.

Sanji muttered an affirmation and quickly left the galley, pleased that Zoro had his back to him and hadn’t been able to see the slight waver in his footsteps after he quickly stood up from the chair. The cook regained his balance and headed to the men’s dorm-room in confused silence. _Since when does the shitty-marimo do me favors so willingly? It’s not like I’m dying or anything,_ he thought curiously.

The headache had returned full-force as he contemplated the greenhaired idiot’s motives, and Sanji was forced to lie down in his bunk to wait out the sudden pain. It eventually subsided into a dull ache, and he was able to make his way to the infirmary to swipe some of Chopper’s pain medication. He’d just been about to re-enter the galley and get a glass of water to help swallow the pills when he heard his sweet Robin-chan talking to the swordsman on the other side of the door.  

“Cook-san seemed out of sorts to you, too?” she was asking in confirmation.

The concern in her tone put a foolish grin on Sanji’s face, which immediately turned into an angry frown when Zoro replied, “Yeah. He damn near sliced a finger open trying to handle broken glass when he was shaking like a leaf—he’s usually more concerned about those precious hands of his—and then the idiot nearly passed out trying to sweep the shards up.”

“I hope he isn’t suffering from some sort of jungle fever unique to this island…”

“What the hell, Robin?!” Zoro snapped, annoyed with her typical morbidity.

“We did spend an awful lot of time hiking through the woods. I fear he was bitten by a dangerous arachnid and injected with a terrible poison.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Zoro replied tiredly.

Robin giggled unashamedly. “Keep an eye on our cook until we can draw some sort of conclusion, Swordsman-san.”

Her voice sounded much closer to the door, so Sanji hastily began retreating before he could be caught spying on their conversation. He figured he knew what Zoro would say to that—probably something along the lines of, “I’m not gonna waste my time watching over that idiot,” or “I’ve got better things to do than babysit the shit-cook,” so he was surprised to catch Zoro’s affirmative grunt.

“Don’t I always?”


	2. Do I Wanna Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Do I Wanna Know?" by the Arctic Monkeys

Sanji spent the rest of the day avoiding Zoro as best as he could. He had almost convinced himself that he hadn’t heard the swordsman’s words properly when he’d been backing away from the galley door; Zoro _couldn’t_ have been implying that he was actively aware of Sanji’s presence since he rarely sought the cook’s attention—unless he was hungry or looking for a fight—and spent most of his time training in the crow’s nest or napping on the deck, oblivious to the world. However, when Zoro willingly offered to accompany him to the market to finish his shopping, it became apparent that the swordsman really did intend to monitor the cook’s well-being, and although the blond was reluctant to admit it, it was fortunate that he did.

Sanji’s health steadily deteriorated with each passing hour, causing him to be the victim of a handful of serious mishaps; he upset an armed and unforgiving marine in the market by dizzily stumbling into the man and spilling his lunch all down his front; he set his own hair-fringe on fire while attempting to shakily light a much-needed cigarette; and then he nearly split his head open on the pavement when he tripped and fell down some cobblestone stairs. In each instance, Zoro had not been far off and had silently come to the cook’s rescue, much to the blond’s shame and embarrassment.

Sanji never had a good response when Zoro asked him, “Are you alright, Cook?”, because his tone was never the same as when they were arguing or sparring—it was dead serious, as if he were truly concerned. The latter incident seemed particularly troubling to the swordsman, who rushed down the cobblestone stairs, uttering that same question with a distinct note of underlying panic. He didn’t even wait for an answer before dropping to his knees beside the fallen cook. Sanji felt fingers thread into his blond hair and jolted at the sudden touch.

“Did you hit your head?” Zoro asked, feeling every inch of Sanji’s scalp and watching for any reaction of discomfort. The probing was unexpectedly gentle, and there was a slight trembling in the tips of his fingers that was also uncharacteristic of the swordsman.

“I’m fine! Get your dirty hands out of my luscious hair, marimo,” he snapped, momentarily angry at his crewmate for touching him so delicately. Zoro knew that Sanji wasn’t weak enough to be done-in by a flight of stairs, so why was he acting so relieved at finding the cook unharmed?

“Uh…sorry,” Zoro muttered, quickly withdrawing his hands with a jerk. “I just…”

“Just what?” Sanji pressed. He could tell that something was bothering the other man because there had been an unexpected spark of actual fear in the fearless man’s eyes that was only just beginning to fade. Zoro stood and silently offered his hand to help Sanji up, but the blond struggled to his feet, purposely ignoring the gesture out of pure stubbornness. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s your problem?” Sanji demanded.

“I sort of did, in a way,” Zoro answered solemnly. “My childhood friend, Kuina, died falling down the stairs in our dojo. She snapped her neck on impact. So excuse me if I jumped into action a little too eagerly.”

Sanji stared at him, dumbstruck. “Oh. Shit, that's—”

“Forget about my problems, stupid-cook. I’ve had enough of your masochism. You need to see Chopper about whatever’s going on with you, and I don’t want to hear your bullshit about sleeping it off or waiting for it to pass. Can you even see straight right now?”

“Why can’t you just back off and let me take care of myself? It’s not like it’s unusual for people to get sick.”

“So you admit that you’re sick?” Zoro pounced.

“Argh! I don’t know—I’m not a doctor! I just know that I’m not gonna let a little bit of lightheadedness keep me from doing my job!”

“I know you’re lying. There’s no way it’s just ‘a little bit of lightheadedness’. Get it checked out tonight so that Chopper can fix you up before we’re back on the open seas. I don’t want to have to rely on Nami’s shit cooking if you’re bedridden and we’re miles away from any island with decent meals.”

“Don’t talk shit about Nami-san’s cooking when she works so hard to fill my place in the kitchen! I’ll kick your ass, you ungrateful bastard!”

Sanji’s threat didn’t seem to hold much weight with him swaying on feet that were unable to hold him properly upright, let alone deliver an effective blow. It was the realization that he wouldn’t be able to kick Zoro’s ass if he wanted to that convinced Sanji to finally go to their fuzzy doctor for a check-up, and Chopper was not pleased with him for concealing a medical issue.

“How could you ignore this problem for days, Sanji? I’d expect something like this from Zoro or Luffy, but I thought you were smarter than that.”

The little reindeer had performed some basic coordination tests on him back at the ship (many of which he had failed) and had discovered that Sanji was also running a slight fever in addition to the aches and dizziness he’d been experiencing. “You said that the symptoms have been increasing over time, so I want you to stay in the infirmary tonight where I can monitor them and rule out possible causes.”

“Alright, I’ll lie down as soon as I finish preparing dinner.”

“NO, you need to rest! Especially since you can’t seem to walk a straight line without bumping into something!” Chopper scolded, and Sanji was forced to give up the fight.

He didn’t like shirking off his duties as the ship’s cook, but he had to admit that he was exhausted after another day of activities draining his energy while also forging through his unpleasant symptoms. He’d fallen asleep in the infirmary before he even had the chance to taste the labour of Nami’s kind culinary efforts.

***

He awoke sometime later to the sound of heavy footsteps reverberating through his skull and sharp, stabbing pains that immediately stole his vision for a few seconds. “Ah—shit…” he groaned hoarsely since his mouth was dryer than Alabasta’s desert. His throat clenched and un-clenched as his muscles spasmed, and a cool glass of water was pushed into his hand, which he instantly gulped down to soothe his parched insides. Sanji’s stomach immediately recoiled from the liquid intrusion, and he curled into himself as waves of nausea crashed over him. A firm hand held him in place when he began to tilt towards the edge of the bed.

“You look like shit, curly-brow.”

“Fuck off,” Sanji growled. Why was the swordsman with him _again?_ Where was his beautiful Nami-san and Robin-chan, and why weren’t they at his bedside helping him drink water instead?

“I’ll take that as a you-told-me-so. You weren’t gonna sleep this off, Cook.” Something in the swordsman’s tone caused Sanji to pause because it was suspiciously serious again, and he knew that Chopper had been there to properly diagnose him this time.

“So how bad is it?” he asked with a quirk in his lip. “Not too bad that I can’t have a smoke, surely.” He made to reach for his jacket and fish out his pack, but Zoro knocked his hand back.

“Chopper isn’t exactly sure yet. He says he wants to run some more tests, so until then—absolutely no smoking, okay chimney?”  

“You wouldn’t tell on me, would you? I just want one or two, and you always ignore Chopper when he gives you advice, stupid-swordsman.”

“I said no.” Zoro’s tone was final.

Sanji shot him a disgusted look. “What are you, my nanny? I’m a grown man—I can poison my lungs if I want to. One measly cigarette couldn’t hurt.” He leaned forwards again, and Zoro was out of the chair like lightning. He snatched Sanji’s black jacket from the bedside table and retrieved his lighter from the first pocket he dug his fingers into.

“You’re hopeless. I’m taking this until Chopper lets you out of quarantine.”

“Quarantine?” Sanji asked when Zoro was halfway to the door.

“Yeah. You aren’t allowed to be around the rest of the crew until Chopper is sure that whatever’s affecting you isn’t contagious.”

“Then why are _you_ in here, idiot?”

Zoro’s stride seemed to falter at that, but he quickly regained his pace without turning around. “I’ve already got it bad,” he muttered, but he wasn’t referring to Sanji’s illness.

“What was that?!” the blond demanded, assuming the muttering to be offensive.

“Nothing. Chopper’s getting you something to eat. He’ll be back soon to tell you everything he knows about this, so quit your whining and rest.” He shut the door behind him with a definitive snap, taking the stolen lighter with him.

Sanji glared at the door where the swordsman’s back had disappeared—the muscles there had been tense with strain beneath his white t-shirt, leading Sanji to believe that Zoro was more anxious than he was letting on. His curly eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated whether or not this meant that Chopper had actually discovered something terrible about his condition. Suddenly, the door he’d been staring at swung back open as the reindeer in question came in, carrying a plate of eggs and bacon with a side of fruit and a tall glass of orange juice.

“I brought you breakfast, Sanji! Even though it’s almost lunchtime,” Chopper said brightly. He placed the dishes on the table beside the cook, whose nose wrinkled at the smell. It was aggravating his recently abated nausea, but he knew that he hadn’t eaten since _yesterday’s_ lunch and was empty of solid nutrients. Horror seeped into him at the very thought, and suddenly his stomach felt uncomfortably hollow. Visions of a barren rock surrounded by an endless sea flashed into his mind, prompting Sanji to hurriedly shovel some fluffy yellow eggs into his mouth, willing them not to come back up. They didn’t, thankfully, and he was able to finish every last bite and sip without creating a mess for Chopper to clean up.

The blue-nosed doctor waited patiently, watching Sanji eat his fill with a curious expression. The cook felt like some sort of specimen under a microscope, so he cleared his throat as soon as he was done eating and said, “Give it to me straight, Doc. How much time do I have?” A smile was playing around his lips, which Chopper did not seem to appreciate.

“I’d estimate about another day and a half,” the reindeer told him gravely.

“Haha. Alright, what’s happening to me?”

“I…I’m not joking, Sanji,” Chopper added in the same serious tone that Zoro had taken to using with him.

Sanji paled, partly at the doctor’s words and partly from the increasing weakness assaulting his body to the very bones. “…Huh?” he mumbled stupidly.

“I was extremely careful in taking care of you overnight, but your body wouldn’t respond to anything I did. Your condition just became steadily worse with each passing hour, seemingly at a fixed rate as your metabolic functions slowed down. I…I don’t know what caused this rapid decline, but…I’m not sure I’ll be able to find a medical solution before the estimated time-frame…expires.” Chopper held his breath as he braced himself for Sanji’s reaction.

“And at the end of that time-frame, _I’ll_ expire—that’s what you’re saying?” Sanji confirmed, swallowing hard.

Chopper nodded abruptly, tears in his eyes as he said, “Unless we can find the root of the problem, yes.”

“…Did you tell the rest of the crew about this?”

“Yeah. I’m your doctor, so it’s my duty to be with you while I’m trying different treatments, but I didn’t want to chance any visitations yet. I’m sorry.”

“Well, fuck.” Sanji frowned and looked at his black jacket that the swordsman had so carelessly discarded on the floor. “Can I smoke?” he added hopefully, forgetting that the damn marimo had stolen his lighter.

Chopper hesitated for only a second before reluctantly saying, “I don’t recommend it, but you’re taking this a little _too_ well, and honestly…you can’t be much worse off, so go ahead and enjoy it if it’ll make you feel better.”

Sanji’s mouth pulled into a smile until he remembered what Zoro had done. “Damn it, the stupid marimo took my lighter!”

“What?! Zoro was in the infirmary? For how long?!” Chopper screeched.

“I don’t know. He was in here when I woke up.”

“Gah!! That idiot never listens to a thing I say! I’ve gotta go talk to him—and I can’t stay in here for too long at any one time in case I’m able to spread whatever it is you have. I’ll be back later to do more tests, okay?”

“Sure, Chopper.”

Sanji plastered a false smile onto his face, which he knew that his gullible crewmate would buy, until the little doctor had left the room in an angry huff. Then he lay back down with an unlit cigarette between his lips, noting with annoyance just how much energy it had taken out of him to argue with Zoro and listen to Chopper’s vague diagnoses. _This is crazy. I can’t believe I’m really gonna kick the bucket so early in our adventure,_ he thought morbidly. _Although, those idiots aren’t going to let me die without a fight, especially not Luffy or the marimo._ He didn’t know why he’d included Zoro in the thought, but he knew instinctively that it was true—the stubborn swordsman was just as protective of their nakama as the captain. He would never let one of them die if there were anything he could do about it. _If there’s a way to save me, they’ll find it._


	3. In My Time of Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "In My Time of Dying" by Led Zeppelin

Zoro hadn’t quite been able to process the news about Sanji’s situation yet. Chopper had gathered all of the crewmembers into the galley, which felt incredibly empty without the energetic cook twirling around with a plate of food in hand, and explained to everyone that Sanji’s body was slowly shutting down. He'd used a lot of medical jargon that none of them had understood, but the bottom line was that their cook was really dying from an unknown condition.

“You really have no idea what caused it, Chopper?” Nami asked him worriedly.

The doctor stared down at his hoofs as he rubbed them together in shame. “No. I honestly can’t explain what’s happening to him. I just know that the rate of his deterioration is constant, and he’ll likely reach the end of his endurance within the next 48 hours—probably less.”

“But Sanji can’t die! Who will cook all of our meals?” Luffy asked. His straw hat was angled in such a way that it cast a dark shadow over his face, but Zoro could see that his lip trembled. The captain’s hands were balled tightly into fists, fingers pressed defiantly into his sides. “How will he find the All Blue?”

The question seemed to weigh down everything in the room, but nobody offered an answer. Usopp, Nami, and Franky had tears in their eyes, Robin had a hand pressed gently over her mouth in shock, and Brook’s skull was somehow expressing a deep sadness despite the fact that he had no skin or muscles to form a frown.

The entire crew had been unusually quiet that morning.

Zoro hadn’t waited to visit Sanji even after Chopper’s instruction to steer clear of the infirmary until he could determine whether or not the serious condition was transferable. He had barged in immediately after learning how little time his nakama had left, and he hadn’t left the chair by Sanji’s side until the man himself had shown signs of waking up. Zoro quickly fetched him a glass of water and anxiously awaited the opening of those pool-blue eyes. Chopper had not been pleased with the swordsman’s lack of respect for his medical opinion, and Zoro had later been ordered to barricade himself in the infirmary with Sanji, at least for the time being.

“You’ve been exposed for far too long for me to allow you to wander around the ship! You don’t want to put the others at risk, do you?!”

The offended reindeer hadn’t been able to detect any sort of change in the swordsman’s metabolism even though the debilitating condition was relatively fast-acting according to Chopper’s calculation. Zoro was sure that the order to stay in quarantine was actually supposed to be some sort of punishment for disobeying him, but what Chopper didn’t realize was that Zoro was being confined in the one place he wanted to be, and that was by Sanji’s side.

Saying that the cook looked like shit was the understatement of Zoro’s lifetime. The next night after Zoro had taken up residency in the infirmary, Sanji truly looked like death was catching up to him, and it wasn’t long before his entire body fell into a state of complete exhaustion and immobility. That was the fourth day since the cook had claimed to have felt a decline in his reserve of strength—five days since they had docked at Loa, meaning that Sanji had likely acquired this strange condition sometime during the first day. He hadn’t said much to Zoro during their stay in the infirmary, but sometimes Zoro would feel the other man’s gaze on him and catch a strange, contemplative look in those blue eyes as he watched the swordsman from his place on the bed.

“Are you really feeling alright? You don’t feel weak at all?” Sanji had asked on one occasion when the swordsman had called him out on his intense staring. Zoro winced inwardly at the quiet way in which Sanji had taken to forcing out his words.

“I feel totally normal. It can’t be contagious if I’m still fine after we’ve been sharing the same air all night. More importantly, how are _you_ feeling?” he inquired, reaching his hand out to check the cook’s temperature since his face appeared flushed.

Sanji shied away instantly, and Zoro couldn’t help but feel a little hurt until the other man said, “It could still be transferable through contact, idiot! Don’t come near me!”, which seemed fairly redundant considering how close to Sanji’s bedside Zoro had moved his chair, but he didn’t comment on the absurdity of the statement.

“Is that what Chopper told you?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s just a theory, but the spreading of something this serious isn’t likely to be airborne or the entire island would be dead by now,” Sanji said grimly, his tone hardening when he spoke the word “dead.”

“Have you thought about where you could have caught it? You can’t have touched many people since we docked here,” Zoro mused.

Sanji gave him a sheepish grin. “Have you _seen_ the women on this island? I must have held dozens of hands during my first trip to the market alone.” His eyes shifted to gaze through rose-tinted hearts of admiration as he reminisced about his first night on the island. Zoro tuned out most of his love-sick babbling until a certain phrase struck him to the core: “…and then she grabbed me and kissed me full on the mouth like I was the last man she’d ever see! You should’ve seen her lips when she smirked at me just as she was leaning in—so coy and yet wanton at the same time. I wish I could’ve taken her with me to sea!”

“Wait a minute, what?!” Zoro said incredulously. “Where did you say you met this woman?” he demanded.

“In a tavern off the coast where we docked the Sunny. I stopped in for a drink because the barmaid standing outside was simply _stunning_ and—”

“Spare me the retelling of your ridicules swooning for a minute, and get back to the part where a promiscuous woman tongue-fucked you at a seedy bar in a line-up of drunken pirates.”

Sanji stared at him in absolute horror. “Don’t talk about Lola that way! That pirate was probably lying to make me think that she was some sort of harlot, so he could have her to himself! Besides, even if he were telling the truth, a woman has the right to be as promiscuous as she wants, and I’m certainly not going to judge her for that! She was an absolute beauty—a treasure for the eyes! Her very existence was the epitome of feminine grace, and I won’t stand for you dishonoring such a fair maiden in my—” A sudden bout of racking coughs cut off Sanji’s spiel before he could finish properly chastising his crewmate.

“You idiot!” Zoro growled, running to fill another glass with water from the tap from the cook. “Did you tell Chopper about this woman?”

Sanji tentatively sipped the liquid, grasping the cup with pale, shaking fingers. Zoro steadied it for him as he drank most of the water before answering. “No. I hardly think that Chopper is interested in hearing that kind of—“

“You IDIOT!” Zoro roared again. “What if you caught something from her? That was probably the most intimate contact you had before the symptoms started. Doesn’t the timing seem suspicious to you?”

“Maybe…I dunno,” Sanji told him reluctantly. His eyes had begun to go out of focus, and he was squinting as if he couldn’t quite lock-on to Zoro’s face anymore. “Hey, marimo. Stop movin’…yer makin’ me feel…as green as yer hair.” With that slurred remark, the cook slumped against his pillow and promptly lost consciousness.

“Oi! Cook?!” Zoro gave him a small shake, but there was no response. “Shit! Don’t go anywhere, moron. I’ll find that woman and figure out what we can do for you.” Sanji gave no sign that he had heard, but since he obviously wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Zoro ran to find Chopper and relay what he’d learned.

 “I suppose we could try and find this Lola person to see if she’s sick,” Chopper mused after Zoro had explained the cook’s story, “but I’m worried that it’ll be too late. If she really gave Sanji this…illness…then I doubt she had much time left to do so.”

“We’re still gonna try, obviously,” Zoro said resolutely. “I’m going to head into town and ask around about her before the cook withers away to nothing. He isn’t even conscious anymore.”

“What?! Why didn’t you mention that FIRST?!” Chopper snapped, scurrying to the infirmary to check on Sanji.

“I’ll come along for the hunt, Swordsman-san. We wouldn’t want you getting lost when there’s so little time left to cure Cook-san’s condition,” Robin suggested seriously. For once, Zoro didn’t even so much as glare at the taunt about his abysmal sense of direction.

“You’re unusually reserved today, Zoro,” Nami noticed instantly.

“Our swordsman is just busy stressing over our dear cook. We won’t let him die, though—not unless an ambush or an untimely accident gets him first.”

“Aw, Robin! Why do you have to say things like that? Now I’m worried, too!” Franky interjected tearfully.

“Don’t worry, guys! The great Captain Usopp will stay behind and protect Sanji’s life at any cost! Nothing is going to take our cook prematurely if I’m on the job!”

“I’ll help, Usopp! The REAL captain has to defend his nakama to his last breath!” Luffy shouted determinedly.

“I’d like to come along as well,” Nami said firmly.

“Me too! If this woman is as beautiful and promiscuous as they say, perhaps she would like to show me her panties!” Brook cut in excitedly.

Nami knocked him upside the head with a closed fist and said, “ _You’re_ staying here to help guard Sanji-kun and the ship! We don’t need any perverts scaring the lady off—if we even find her in good health.”

With that, the trio of Zoro, Robin, and Nami headed into town to search for the mysterious Lola. Luckily, it was easy to get information about her since it seemed that _everyone_ on the island knew her name. What was unexpected, though, was her true identity.

“You guys are looking for Lola? Her usual shift at the Pirate’s Tavern started a few hours ago, so you’ll probably find her there.”

“Nah, I heard she quit a couple days ago.”

“Oh really? Was it because of her health again?” one of the villagers asked the other.

“Her health?” Robin inquired. “May I ask if the lady was suffering from some sort of affliction?”

The two men glanced at each other at that, a small smirk on each of their faces. “Lola’s been feeling unwell on and off again for as long as she’s had the curse. You pirates wouldn’t know about it, but its common knowledge here on Loa.”

“A curse?” Zoro asked skeptically, but Nami cut him off before he could continue.

“Come on then, spill. We want to hear everything you know about this Lola character and her so called ‘curse’. Tell us all of the details, and I’ll make it worth your time. Name your price.” Zoro heard the crick in his neck as he spun to look at her, astounded. “What are you staring at me like that for? If it’s to save Sanji’s life, I’ll gladly part with a few berries,” she whispered indignantly. Robin raised her eyebrows at that, and the greedy sea-witch added, “I won’t even charge him interest when he pays me back.”

The two men deliberated for a moment before demanding a reasonable sum for their time and information. “Deal,” Nami told them. “Now explain about this curse.”

“It all has to do with an old folktale here in Loa. Have you ever heard of the Curse of 100 Kisses?”

“We haven’t,” Robin answered for them.

“Well, the story goes that there used to be a beautiful priestess named Amara who lived on the island of Loa. She was in love with the warrior tribe’s strongest fighter, Braun. She chose him to be her mate, which was considered the highest honour that a man could receive—even more than he could earn winning countless battles. To be chosen as the priestess’ mate meant that you were elevated to the status of a king in the eyes of the people. Braun respected Amara as his priestess, but he didn’t love her. He only agreed to marry her to appease his family and the people of Loa, but he was unhappy in their marriage because he'd been pressured into complying with the custom of their island.

“After a few years, Amara began to sense her husband’s aversion to their marriage, and she finally confronted him about it. Braun could no longer hide his dislike for his wife—she was a cruel woman at heart, who practiced black magic in the temple at night, and she was as unforgiving as the curses that she bestowed on their people. Amara’s fascination with the dark arts was only known to her husband and a small group of devout followers. One of these followers overheard Braun speaking of his loveless marriage and his ongoing infidelity. He bragged about having kissed 100 other women in an attempt to fill the empty void where a true companion should be. This boast was relayed to the priestess, who immediately began developing a curse to teach her unfaithful husband a lesson.

“She placed the Curse of 100 Kisses on him, causing him to grow weaker and weaker over time. He would die after 100 hours unless he reset the deterioration of his health by kissing a man. Amara still loved her husband, so she wanted to punish him in such a way that he could overcome the trial and return to her if he learned to fear her enough to stay faithful. She told him that as consequence for sharing 100 kisses with women who were not his wife, Braun should have to share 100 kisses with men who had never kissed Amara.

“If he didn’t get the kisses often enough then his life would begin to fade away. It was a test of his endurance and dedication to their marriage. In Amara’s eyes, if he was able to outlast the curse and complete the 100 kisses, he would be able to appreciate his faithful wife who had not engaged in such acts with other men. However, something unusual happened to Braun during his time searching for male companions to satisfy the curse. A close friend from his tribe willingly shared kiss after kiss with the warrior in order to keep him alive, but their relationship evolved beyond that of friendship, and their kisses became romantic in nature rather than of necessity.

“The curse evolved in response to this betrayal and became wild—the final kiss that should have ended the curse was transferred to Braun’s lover, who then had to continue kissing men who'd never kissed Braun. The man ended up moving to another village, telling Braun that it was so he could find enough men who fit the curse’s requirements, but what Braun didn’t know was that Amara had found her husband’s lover and revealed another method to breaking the curse—true love’s kiss. This meant that because Braun had passed the curse onto him, he hadn’t truly loved the man whom he’d been using to negate the curse’s effects. Braun’s lover felt insulted that his kisses had been meaningless to the other man and resolved to never see him again. Braun had no choice but to return to his wife and remain faithful rather than invoke her wrath again.

“The Curse of 100 Kisses continued to be passed from man to man, always somehow making its way back to this island as if the land itself were cursed. They say that the people of Loa eventually banded together and sacrificed the wicked priestess in the hopes of stopping the curse for good, but this only further angered her spirit, and the curse became tied to the island of Loa as a result. The _woman_ named Lola who you’re asking about is, in fact, a man named Logan. He dresses as a beautiful woman and frequents bars that serve pirates, because every man on Loa already knows about the curse and refuses to kiss whoever is inflicted in case they end up being the one-hundredth man and receive the curse themselves. Now that you know the story, I take it you have a crewmate who fell victim to Lola’s charm?”

Zoro nodded, feeling sick. He had absorbed several important details from the story that explained the cook’s condition as well as one that would help save him. Sanji had been the one-hundredth man to kiss Lola/Logan—he obviously hadn’t kissed any other men since then, which explained why he was slowly dying, and the maximum amount of time the cook could go without satisfying the curse’s conditions was 100 hours.

He was struggling to do the math when Robin said, “So Cook-san has four days and four hours between each kiss before the curse steals his life…how tragic. Swordsman-san, at what time did Sanji say he met Lola in the tavern?”

“He didn’t, but we docked around 10 pm and split up in the market. Sanji was back at the ship before midnight.”

“That gives us a time-frame of between 2 and 4 am. It’s nearly 10 pm now, meaning we have about four hours before we’ll be cutting it close to the 100-hour mark. What should we do, Swordsman-san?” Robin asked expectantly.

Zoro didn’t even have to think about it. “Take me back to the ship,” he said instantly. With his amazing ability to get lost, he knew it could very well take him longer than that to find the Sunny when he was so desperate to get there, so he didn’t try to hide his clear demand to be escorted and simply followed Nami and Robin to the docks. He ran across the deck, the rest of the crew tagging along on his heels as he burst into the infirmary, startling Chopper so badly that the little doctor dropped the syringe he’d been holding next to Sanji’s body.

“What’s going on?” Zoro asked because Chopper’s nose was running, and he looked to be on the verge of tears.

“It’s getting really bad. Sanji’s been fading in and out of consciousness since you guys left. He started hallucinating for a while, even having full conversations with people who weren’t there, and now he won’t wake up at all. His heart-rate is slowing down as well, so I was preparing to administer a shot of adrenaline if it dropped any lower.”

“Go outside for a minute, Chopper,” Zoro told him quickly. _Why is his heart failing?_ he thought, panicked. _We should still have more time…_

The doctor looked surprised, and then angry, as Zoro began ushering him towards the hallway. “No! I can’t leave my patient right now—he’s in critical condition! Do you want him to die?!” he snapped, outraged.

“Of course not,” Zoro snapped back, “but I need to be alone with the cook for a minute, so just take everyone outside. Please!” Zoro begged. If Chopper had looked surprised then the rest of the crew were flabbergasted when the swordsman resulted to actual pleading for them to listen to him.

“You can trust Zoro with this, Chopper. Let him have a moment with Sanji-kun,” Robin said reassuringly. She must have realized what Zoro was planning because she was smiling like the Cheshire cat. It was creepy and much too knowledgeable for Zoro to contain the subtle blush that crept onto his face.

Protests made their way throughout the crew, but the captain was the one who silenced it. He readjusted the straw hat on his head and said, “Zoro’s our first mate. He would never let anything happen to his cook. Sanji is an important member of our crew, and Zoro is one of the most trustworthy people I know. Even if we don’t understand why, we have to listen to him when he’s this determined. Let’s go, guys.”

 _“I_ know what he’s gonna do,” Nami interjected suddenly. “Zoro’s gonna ki—mmphf!”

A delicate hand sprouted out of Nami’s shoulder in a flurry of petals, covering her mouth with its palm. Luffy shot a huge grin at his swordsman, and the absolute trust in that smile encouraged the rest of the crew to follow their captain out of the infirmary, leaving Zoro alone with a very unconscious Sanji.

He walked quickly to the bedside and sat down at the edge of the mattress. Even in this dire situation, he couldn’t help himself from taking the opportunity to really _look_ at Sanji in a way that he was never able to when the man was awake and other people were around. He took in the sight of his face, so calm that it was almost as if he were sleeping. The shiny golden fringe of hair was resting over his left eye and matching yellow lashes cast shadows on his pale, hollow cheeks. His lips were not particularly inviting, looking as still as a corpse’s and pressed into a thin line over a perfectly trimmed goatee. It was thanks to this facial hair that the otherwise innocent-faced man had an air of danger and rugged toughness that more closely matched the fighting cook’s fiery personality.

Zoro swore that he could feel his heart contract when he thought about Sanji’s eyes possibly never opening again—his long legs, bundled beneath layers of blankets, never again performing the uniquely artistic style of fighting that saved the cook’s precious hands from harm and always managed to set Zoro’s heart racing whenever they sparred together (for more reasons than one). He felt sick at the thought of losing the one person who seemed to understand him best, who always had his back in a fight, and who shared the feeling of deep responsibility for the crew that had given them a place to call home on their adventure to fulfill near-impossible dreams.    

“Don’t fucking die yet, you damn curly-browed bastard. People would miss you, you know? _I’d_ miss you.”

He didn’t waste any more time with words that were falling on deaf ears as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Sanji’s unresponsive lips. Zoro screwed his eyes shut when the action produced no response from the other man. Sanji didn’t flinch—didn’t show any sign that he felt the touch of a kiss or Zoro’s hand on his clammy cheek. The swordsman handled his comrade as carefully as he would his swords, and he was just as aware of every inch of Sanji from the softness of his lips to the pleasant roughness of his scruff against Zoro’s jaw and the slight tickle of silky hair trailing over his fingers. 

He memorized the shape of those lips as he held his position, afraid that the curse wouldn't accept it if he ended it too soon. He counted the beats of his own racing heart while he absorbed the strange sensation that the kiss was producing—it was as if the heat from Sanji’s body were flooding into the swordsman through every point of contact and flowing into his bloodstream. He felt oddly as if he were stealing something from the other man, and a small flower of apprehension blossomed in his mind at the nagging thought that he was doing something wrong…

Sanji twitched—it was brief and weak, but Zoro definitely felt the lips beneath his tremble ever so slightly. Suddenly, he could feel that Sanji was breathing through his nose in a steady rhythm against Zoro’s cheek, and then the cook gasped into his mouth, shocking the swordsman into retreating to the chair beside the bed. One blue eye flew open and pierced him with a reassuringly alert gaze. Sanji sat up in one fluid motion as if he had never been sick at all.

“Zoro?” he asked, absently feeling his lips as he surveyed the room.

“Sanji!” The cook jumped at the sound of his own name coming from the swordsman’s mouth, turning to stare at his nakama in stunned silence. “Are you…how do you feel right now?”

“Fine,” Sanji answered instantly as if he were confused as to why he would be asked such a thing. It came back to him a moment later, and he looked down at himself in surprise, feeling his body with a pleased smile on his face. “Yeah. I feel…great actually. What happened?”

Zoro tried not to look as awkward as he felt when he avoided the question. “Chopper will explain it all. Let me go and get him.” He stood up to fetch the doctor, and Sanji threw back the covers to follow him. “Hang on, don’t just jump up and start walking around! You just healed. At least wait until Chopper has a look at you before you get back to your old routine, shit-cook.”

“I bet you’ve been eating like shit ever since I’ve been in here. How long was I out anyways?”

“It’s still the same day. You were mostly conscious until a little while ago.”

“Oh yeah…I remember seeing a bunch of weird stuff before I passed out. At one point, I swear you were in here dressed like Chopper—fur suit and everything.”

“I most certainly was _not_ , so please never mention those hallucinations again,” he said with a shudder. “I’m going to let the rest of the crew know that you’re awake so they can come see you.”

“Marimo?”

Zoro paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“Why were you sitting beside me on the bed?”

 _Shit, he knew! I can’t just casually say that I was kissing him—even if it_ was _to stop a curse from killing him! I’ll have to lead up to that later. Shit shit shit shit SHIT!_ he cursed inwardly. Out loud he said as casually as he could, “I was just looking after our idiot-cook. Try not to take such a long break from your job next time. Luffy missed seven meals—twelve by his count.”

Sanji was silent for a long moment before whispering, “I won’t. I promise,” and Zoro fled from the room.


	4. Drunk in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Drunk In Love" by Beyoncé

Nobody had told him how he had recovered so quickly, and Sanji could tell that it was a sensitive subject by the way Chopper silently nodded at the praise his medical prowess received instead of the usual dramatic rejection and his uttering of “That won’t make me happy, you bastard!” Furthermore, Zoro could barely look him in the eye or say more than two words at a time, and the ladies just smirked and ruffled his blond hair affectionately whenever he brought it up. It wasn’t until the archaeologist and navigator called a group meeting that Sanji finally learned of his embarrassing predicament—and in front of the entire crew, too!

“So Sanji just needs to keep kissing guys, and he won’t die?” Luffy confirmed in his usual blunt manner. “Well, that’s not so bad! Can we have lunch now, Sanji? I really missed your food!” he added, practically salivating at the thought of eating something made by the cook.

“This is crazy! We aren’t even safe from _curses_ on the Grand Line?” Usopp asked, his knees knocking together as they trembled in cowardice.

“I wonder if it’s the result of a devil fruit ability…perhaps a curse-curse person?” Robin mused half-jokingly.

“Are you gonna ask me to kiss you, bro? I know that I’m SUPER handsome, but I’m not really sure I’m your type,” Franky said thoughtfully.

“I would gladly offer my lips to be of service on your death-bed Sanji-kun, but I don’t actually _have_ lips!” Brook reminded them.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me…” Sanji mumbled miserably. He hung his head in his hands and tried not to think about the 99 other kisses he would have to endure, but he tried even _harder_ not to think about the one that he apparently already had.

As if Sanji’s train of thought had prompted her, Nami asked, “Where the heck is Zoro? I called a meeting for the whole crew, and he just ignored me as usual,” she huffed irritably.

“Maybe he’s washing his mouth out with soap ‘cuz he had to kiss Sanji!” Usopp said, cackling at his joke. They all seemed to find it incredibly amusing, with the exception of Robin, who had already revealed the truth about Zoro’s decision to Sanji in private.

“Swordsman-san didn’t hesitate a second to stop the curse from killing you. He didn’t even tell the rest of the crew what you needed to reverse its effects. He sent everyone away to save you any unnecessary embarrassment. You should have seen how anxious he was to get to you before it was too late—if you had, you wouldn’t feel anything toward him but gratitude,” Robin had explained.

“I see. I’m not upset with him, Robin-chan. I owe him my life, don’t I?” Sanji could hardly believe they were talking about the same Zoro who drew his swords with a deadly look in his eye whenever the cook refused him alcohol—the guy who called him every name in the book and constantly taunted him about his curly eyebrows. The Zoro that Sanji was used to never even looked his way when they passed each other on the deck, and he rarely expressed any indication that he cared for Sanji’s well-being; although, he knew that Zoro at least consider him nakama, which meant that he cared insofar as he was obligated to as his crewmate.  

Sanji almost wished that Robin _hadn’t_ told him the truth because now he kept asking himself _why?_   Why did Zoro act so aloof and disagreeable around Sanji if he really cared so much? _Or am I just looking at his behaviour too deeply?_ Sanji thought. _That moss-brain probably only has one setting in serious situations, and it’s “risk it all and be a hero.” He was probably just doing what he thought was his duty since we’re nakama._ Satisfied with that answer, Sanji resolved to cook all of Zoro’s favorite foods tomorrow as a thank you for saving his life, and then they would be able to act like nothing had happened between them.

That had been the plan, but Zoro didn’t get up for breakfast even when multiple people called him. He seemed content with sleeping the morning away—and part of the afternoon too, only rising to make himself a quick snack before his afternoon training session. By dinnertime, Zoro climbed down from the crow’s nest looking absolutely exhausted. Usually, he was content and energetic after a tough workout because of all the adrenaline he'd produced that was still running through his system and fueling his good mood, but today he seemed rather agitated.

“Where the fuck have you been all day, moss-head?” Sanji overlooked the swordsman’s sweaty state due to the fact that the man had slept through two meals and was clearly running on empty. “The crew already finished eating. We had onigiri—your favourite. You’re lucky I saved you some, or it all would’ve ended up in Luffy’s greedy gut. Now sit the fuck down and finish this plate so I can wash it,” he ordered.

Zoro seemed too fatigued to offer much of an argument, so he dragged his feet into the galley, still shirtless from his workout, and took a seat in front of Sanji’s perfect arrangement of rice balls. A bottle of the expensive sake stood open and waiting as well, which caused Zoro to raise his eyebrows in quiet surprise. He didn’t bother mentioning the unusual gesture from the cook. While he began ravaging the pile of onigiri, Sanji took a seat across from him at the table and began casually nibbling a single rice ball. The pair managed to sit in relatively comfortable silence for quite a few minutes before Zoro broke it to offer Sanji some of the sake. Equally surprised, he accepted and poured himself a tall glass.

“Thanks for the food, Cook. That workout wiped me out. I felt really off my game today,” he admitted, still seeming annoyed.

“No problem. Thanks for saving my life with that kiss.”

Zoro immediately choked on his onigiri and had to chug a couple mouthfuls of sake to clear his throat. “H-how did you—?!”

“Robin.”

“Ah.”

Sanji took a few large sips of his drink when an awkward silence fell between them. “Sorry you had to be the one to do it. Must’ve sucked,” he commented sympathetically.

“It didn’t,” Zoro said. He quickly realized that his answer was too sudden, but it was already too late to take it back. Words began pouring out of his mouth seemingly before he could stop them. “I mean, you were _dying_. I don’t care that I had to kiss you. I wouldn’t have cared even if it had been something less serious than that because—” he caught himself, both of them taking another couple swigs of sake before he continued, “—because you’re important to me. You know that I lost Kuina when there was nothing I could’ve done to save her, so I’m sure as hell not gonna complain about being able to save a friend when I had the chance.”

Sanji’s lips spread into a wide smile, sending Zoro’s thoughts into a frenzy of delight when he realized that the cook’s happy expression was only for him. “What’s that stupid goofy grin for, love-cook?”

“You just called me your friend,” Sanji told him simply. “I didn’t think you even _liked_ me, let alone considered me a friend,” he explained with a laugh. A slight flush had crept across his face from the heavy drink—Sanji was an incredible lightweight. Zoro discovered that he was violently glad the sake seemed to have tempered the cook’s volatile personality, because he didn’t think that Sanji would’ve taken that slip of the tongue so well had he been completely sober.

“I do—like you, I mean.” Zoro felt his eyes widen in horror at his own words. _Oh God, what am I saying?!_ he thought, mentally preparing himself to do damage control if the cook lashed out at him for saying something so strange.

“I like you, too, marimo,” Sanji said, stopping Zoro’s heart when he smiled even brighter. “I’m pretty glad to be alive right now. Hey! We should celebrate me not being dead, don’tcha think? Have a party? I’ll cook EVERYTHING we have in stock!”

It became apparent, then, that the cook was very, very drunk. “Dammit, curly-brow! Learn to hold your liquor!” Zoro chastised. He watched as Sanji knocked back the rest of his sake, stumbling as he tried to walk to the pantry to prepare for his spontaneous party. The utter confusion on the cook’s face was priceless when he looked around from the spot on the floor where he’d fallen on his ass. 

“How’d I git down here?” he wondered.

“That’s it, we’re going to bed,” Zoro told him, amused.

“Together?” Sanji asked seriously, eyeing the swordsman’s still shirtless chest contemplatively.

Zoro’s face blanched. “NO!” he shouted, causing Sanji to flinch at his loud reply. “I’ll help you into _your_ bed, and then I’m going to _mine_.”

“Yer not gonna kiss me again, are you?” the cook asked. It was clearly meant to be a joke because Sanji began laughing as though it were the funniest thing in the world. “At least make sure’m conscious next time, pervert-marimo!”

“Hell, you don’t even know what you’re saying, do you? I’m never sharing the good sake with you again. It’s torture for my heart,” he said absently. Sanji didn’t appear to have been paying attention to that and had become fascinated by the strings of his apron, which he’d somehow gotten his hand tangled in behind his back.

“Zorooo?” he called, frustrated when it wouldn’t come undone and the second hand became entangled as well. “Help me?”

The swordsman sighed and went to free the cook from his unfortunately provocative predicament. “You’re a sorry excuse for a man, you know that? You get piss drunk after one glass of premium booze, somehow managing to truss yourself up in a pink apron, and then beg _me_ for help? I wish you could see yourself right now.”

“Then bring me a mirror,” Sanji suggested helpfully.

Zoro burst out laughing as he helped the wasted cook to his feet. “Don’t puke on me, or I’ll cut you up in the morning,” he warned since the act of standing had made the other man look a little green. Sanji nodded his head, careful to keep his mouth firmly shut, and leaned heavily on Zoro’s bare shoulder for support.

They made their way to the men’s dorms, Zoro’s muscles screaming in pain, while Sanji rambled on about the party he still thought they were about to have. It wasn’t until he nearly dropped the other man due to a particularly intense muscle spasm that Zoro began to have reservations about the aches and pains spreading through his worn-out body. Figuring that he could probably sleep it off, he tucked a very uncooperative Sanji into bed, having to do so with one hand over the blond’s mouth to keep him from waking up the whole crew, and climbed into his own bunk where he passed out to the uncomfortable sensation of weakness seeping into his bones.

***

Sanji awoke the next morning with an incredible hangover. His body told him that he’d overslept and missed breakfast, meaning that the beautiful Nami-swan and Robin-chan had gone yet another morning without their handsome chef’s talented cooking to start the day. He was surprised that no one had woken him but was less surprised that Zoro had also slept in as usual. For some reason, looking at the swordsman’s sleeping form caused a pang of regret and embarrassment in Sanji’s gut, so he aimed a half-powered kick at his stupid green head to wake him up and get to the bottom of the feeling.

“Oi, shitty swordsman! Your patch of grass could use a little sunlight, don’t you think? Get up!”   

Zoro grunted and rolled over to face Sanji. A single eyelid cracked open, his dark, piecing eye meeting the cook’s sea-blue one before the lazy asshole decided to snuggle deeper into his blankets and ignore the blond completely.

“You are such a child, marimo. Get. UP!” He hooked the toes of his dominant foot under the edge of Zoro’s bunk and tipped it in one fluid movement, sending the sleeping man sprawling onto the cold deck.

“…Ow,” Zoro muttered weakly from the pile of blankets on the floor. A single hiss escaped his teeth, and he didn’t move from the crumpled heap at Sanji’s feet.

“Zoro?” No response. “ZORO! What the hell—did you fall back asleep?”

“…No,” came the grunt from the floor. “…hurts…” he elaborated.

Sanji felt the tiniest bit of alarm at that. Since when did the stupid muscle-head admit to being in pain? It couldn’t be from a hangover—the man could hold his liquor like the ocean held fish. The cook crouched down, ignoring the slight throbbing in his head, thanks to the sake he’d drank last night, and tugged at the blankets until the swordsman rolled out onto his back. He frowned, forehead wrinkling in a pained grimace as he struggled into a seated position at Sanji’s eye level.

“You could at least warn a guy first,” he grumbled, staring at Sanji’s face for a moment before closing his eyes and putting a hand to his head. “Your damn eyebrow is making me dizzy…might puke.”

“Fuck you and your hatred for my eyebrow.”

“Don’t hate it—just think it’s silly,” he mumbled, seeming dazed.

“How much did you drink last night?” Sanji asked.

“I finished that bottle you gave me.”

“Just the one?”

“Yeah.”

Sanji shook his head in confusion. There was no way it was a hangover if the swordsman had only finished a single bottle of sake, yet he’d said he was in pain and was feeling dizzy. “Oi, are you feeling alright?”

“I’ll be fine, Cook. I just overdid it yesterday in the crow’s nest.”

“You told me that you were off your game. What did you mean?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t finish my reps because I was too tired—didn’t seem to have any energy, even though I slept most of the day.”

Sanji felt an alarming sense of familiarity as Zoro talked about his symptoms, but he had other things on his mind that he also wanted answers to. “What else happened yesterday? I remember us talking in the galley and then drinking sake, but most of the conversation topics seem to be eluding me.”

A smirk spread across Zoro’s face. “Do you remember falling on your ass?”

“Vaguely,” Sanji said, grimacing. “So let me have it. I take it I embarrassed myself in some way?”

“A few ways.”

“Damn.”

“I’m not gonna tell you what we talked about, though. It makes for great blackmail material.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“ _Sure_ you do,” Zoro said goodnaturedly. He gave Sanji a sly, knowing glance that sent a shiver down his spine. He felt heat creeping into his face and hastily stood up without offering Zoro a hand.

“You must be as hungry as I am. Want breakfast?” he asked casually, praying that whatever Zoro now had on him didn’t involve singing or kissing. _Kissing?_ Sanji thought wildly. _Why did I have to imagine_ that _as the worst case scenario?! There’s no way I kissed him._ He couldn’t help but wonder, though, because a whole day had passed since the curse had been reset, and Sanji hadn’t felt the slightest decrease in energy. In fact, he felt suspiciously normal, but he was too embarrassed to ask Zoro if he’d reset the curse a second time when he’d been drunk last night.

“I could eat. What are you making?” Zoro asked, breaking Sanji out of his internal monologue.

“Whatever you want.”

“Really?” Zoro said gleefully. “I thought you said you weren’t my butler?” he teased.

“Don’t make me angry, or I’ll feed you enough syrup-soaked pancakes to clog an artery!”

They continued bantering like this well into the latest breakfast that Sanji had had in a while. He was flinging the blueberries that had been dislodged from his waffles across the table at Zoro when Robin startled him by suddenly leaning over his shoulder. Surprisingly, he hadn’t even realized that she’d walked in.

“Cook-san, are you wasting food in a childish display of a food fight? That’s so unlike you,” she scolded, conjuring hands to scoop up the extra berries that were rolling across the tabletop and transfer them to the trash. The last free-flying berry squished against the side of Sanji’s face, splattering his jaw with purple juices. “I know you’ll clean up the mess, but don’t let our swordsman’s bad manners influence you _too_ much, or there won’t be any proper gentleman left on this ship.”

“You think I’m gentlemanly? Oh, how my sweet Robin-chwan flatters me!” Sanji cooed, finally registering that his swooning was delayed today.

While his attention was diverted, Zoro reached across the table to wipe the berry juice from Sanji’s jaw with the pad of his thumb. The blond was distracted enough that he only registered the trembling in the swordsman’s fingers after he had already finished cleaning off the juice and was hastily getting up from the table.

“Oops, I got some in your beard, curly. You’ll have to wash it out. I’m going to take another nap—this headache is getting worse,” Zoro said dismissively. He left the galley with the slow, unsteady pace of someone who clearly felt dizzy.

The swordsman’s behaviour reminded Sanji of his earlier suspicions, and he turned back to Robin with renewed alarm. “Robin-chan, do you think it’s possible for me to have given Zoro the curse before my 100 kisses were up?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Why, has he been experiencing the symptoms?”

“I think so—and I’ve felt completely fine ever since he…you know.”     

“That certainly would be unusual. I’ll ask him about it right away and see what he thinks. If that’s the case, and Swordsman-san’s health continues to decline, you may have to return the favour,” she told him with a sweet smile that did nothing to hide the slyness in her tone.

Sanji considered the possibility of having to give Zoro a life-saving kiss with mild horror. He wished he could say that he couldn’t even picture it, but the horrifying truth was that he _could—_ he remembered the lingering sensation of pressure on his lips when he’d awoken completely healthy in the infirmary and could easily imagine what it would have felt like had they both been conscious. The image his mind conjured up of the scene was far too tempting to think about any longer, so Sanji threw himself into his work and planned a five-course dinner that would have him furiously cooking the rest of the day away. Cooking always served to clear his mind of unwanted stress, and he hoped it would prove as reliable a method until Robin could confirm if the swordsman really did have the curse.

***

Zoro had just been about to enter the men’s dorm to rest his tired body when a pair of lips sprouted from the doorknob. He hastily withdrew his hand in surprise as it started talking with Robin’s voice. “I’d like a word before you retire for the night, Swordsman-san.”

The lips smiled, and Zoro turned to face the woman herself as she caught up to him in the deserted hallway. He showed her into the bedroom, and they each took a seat on the low couch. With the way she was scrutinizing him, he suddenly felt like a patient about to be psychoanalysed by her dark, watchful eyes. “Cook-san tells me you’ve been acting strangely,” she began without preamble.

“Strange in what way?” he asked, fearing that Sanji had begun catching on to Zoro’s more than platonic feelings toward him.

“He seems to think that you may have caught the curse from him. His symptoms have disappeared since he was released from the infirmary while your health seems to be experiencing a similar deterioration.”

Zoro turned his neck to look at her, suddenly comprehending the strange sensation he had felt when he’d kissed Sanji—besides the obvious sensations. “How is that possible? There’s no way he kissed 99 dudes before I got to him, Robin.”

“I’m quite sure he didn’t,” she said with a ladylike giggle. “I do have a theory…but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“No one ever likes your theories—they’re terrifying.”

“This time I think ‘embarrassing’ is a more accurate description.”

“Alright then, let me hear it,” he told her, bracing himself.

“The story about the curse mentioned its unique ability for adaptation. It was able to evolve when Braun began an intimate relationship with another man by responding to their unequal feelings for each other and punishing them—Braun had to watch his lover go through the same curse that he did, and his lover discovered that he was not truly loved by the person he'd given his heart to. I wonder if, in your case, the curse was able to sense that you took advantage of Sanji, who was unconscious during your kiss. It responded by transferring to you—perhaps as a form of punishment.”

Zoro just stared at her, aghast. “Robin! That’s…what the hell?! You’re making it sound like I’m some sort of perverted molester! I did it to _save his life!_ ” he reminded her.

“And if you were only interested in saving his life then the curse might have accepted you as Sanji’s first kiss.”

“Excuse me? What's _that_ supposed to mean?!”

“You and I both know that you have romantic feelings for the cook. Even if you bury them under a mask of aloofness and bitter rivalry, your heart knows differently. I think the curse could sense that you _enjoyed_ kissing Sanji despite the dire situation. It chose to punish you for compromising his honor,” she finished insightfully.

Zoro took a moment of silence to let her words sink in. He had no doubt in his mind that he had somehow taken the curse from Sanji, who had been running around with the same ridiculous charisma as always without a hint of weakness for the past two days, unlike Zoro, who felt as though he were slowly falling apart. Suddenly, the reality of the situation dawned on him, and he took a deep breath, putting his face in his hands.

“Thank God…” he whispered, prompting Robin to raise her eyebrows. “I can get through this curse no problem...but Sanji? How was that ladies’ man supposed to get 99 men to kiss him?”

“I’m happy you feel that way, because you’ll have your work cut out for you. Shall I notify the crew that you’ll be in need of some assistance?”

“Just call another group meeting.”

***

“Wait, now _Zoro_ has to kiss a bunch of guys so he won’t die? You work really fast, Sanji!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Luffy—the curse transferred prematurely. How could I have kissed 100 guys when I could barely even stand up?” Sanji asked.

“You don’t have to stand to kiss,” Luffy reasoned. “You were lying down when Zoro kissed you.”

“I _have_ heard that it’s more fun lying down. Yohohohoho!”

“Franky, do you have any rope? I’m gonna tie those two together and toss them overboard,” Sanji said, flushing crimson.

“Maybe I’ll just let this thing kill me,” Zoro added, similarly red-faced.

“No, no, don’t do that! I need the strongest swordsman at my side when I become King of the Pirates! We’ll help you out, won’t we guys?”

Luffy suddenly sprang at him, wrapping his rubber legs around Zoro's waist and planting a sloppy kiss right on his mouth. “Blegh! LUFFY! That’s so gross—it’s all slobbery!”  

“You taste like steel, Zoro! Probably ‘cuz you bite your swords, shishishishi! Do I taste like rubber?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what rubber tastes like?”

“Well, now you know—so, do you feel any better?”

Zoro finally registered the pleasant tingling on his skin and the warmth in his veins. He didn’t feel any pain in his muscles or head, and his fatigue was completely gone. “I think it worked. I’m reset.”

“Yosh! Can we set sail now? The log pose finished _ages_ ago! I want another adventure!” Luffy shouted. Usopp and Chopper joined him in a silly dance, Brook pulled out his violin to strike up a tune with Franky backing him up on guitar, and the ladies retired to their room to relax before dinner. When Zoro looked around and noticed that Sanji had also disappeared, he immediately headed into the galley and found the blond in the midst of a truly enormous spread of ingredients, wearing the same pink “Kiss the Cook” apron that mocked him so.

“Damn, Cook. Was I sleeping when we invited a king to feast with us or something? I hope you aren’t really going to cook EVERYTHING in stock for your party.”

Sanji’s shoulders tensed at that, probably because he recognized the phrase as something he’d drunkenly said last night, and Zoro noticed that the backs of his ears had turned red. He hoped the embarrassed reaction was because the blond also remembered his words from just before that when he’d said that he liked Zoro. The swordsman could accept that sentiment—he would gladly be Sanji’s friend if it meant getting to spend time with him outside of their usual arguments. 

“I was just trying out a new five-course menu. I’m not really in the partying mood,” Sanji said dejectedly.

“Why not? Did something happen?” he asked instantly, and then to mask his concern, he added, “Were you shot down by one of the ladies again, curly-brow?”

“What the fuck do you _think_ happened?!” Sanji snapped, violently slamming his hands on the counter.  Zoro jumped at the sound, shocked when the cook turned to look at him with unrestrained distress. “Why the fuck did you end up with my curse?!”

“It was my fault. Robin said I must’ve been thinking indecent thoughts when I kissed you, so the curse transferred to punish me for it.”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?!”

“You know…I was thinking that I’d have more blackmail material,” Zoro lied, using the clever cover story that Robin had come up with. “I haven’t even apologized yet for doing it without your permission. It wasn’t right of me, even if it was necessary. I’m sorry.”

“Are you _stupid?!_ ” Sanji raged, storming over to shake the swordsman by his collar. “I walked into a sleazy bar and was fooled by a fucking _man in a dress_ into catching a curse that took away every purpose I have on this crew! I couldn’t fight—couldn’t cook—and I almost sliced up my hands because I was too stubborn to listen to _you!_ I wouldn’t have even gone to Chopper if it hadn’t been for you. I’d be _dead_ right now if you hadn’t kissed me, you moron! It’s no different than if I’d been drowning and you gave me CPR, but now you’re actually apologizing to _me_ for saving my life when _you’re_ the one who has to get 100 kisses from any dirty fucking pirates who’ll let you, otherwise you’ll _die_. Did I leave anything out?!”

Zoro just stared into the blazing blue eye, too stunned by the sudden outburst to form a coherent response at first. He wrapped his hands around Sanji’s, which were locked in a death-grip around the fabric of his shirt, and slowly loosened their hold. “It’s okay,” he told him, squeezing those hands reassuringly. “I’m actually thankful that it’s me who has to do this instead of you. It’ll be easier for me.”

“Wha—are you saying that I don’t have enough game or something?” Sanji snapped angrily. He didn’t pull his hands out of Zoro’s, only held them tighter as they stared each other down.

Zoro shook his head, deciding to give the other man a small hint about the nature of his feelings toward him. “I meant because I’m not uncomfortable with kissing men. Unlike you, I’m not a total ladies’ man—I can appreciate male beauty just as well as I can a woman’s. Kuina taught me that the outer package isn’t necessarily as important as what’s inside. It’s not the worst thing in the world for me to be cursed with. I’ll just look at it as a form of training—it might even be fun.”

He smiled at the blond, holding the expression while Sanji’s dawning realization that Zoro actually _liked_ kissing men froze his features into a comically stunned mask of surprise. After a moment, Zoro carefully removed his hands from Sanji’s. The cook looked straight at him and quietly said, “I thought you were asexual like a plant, marimo.”

Zoro smacked a palm into his own forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “I really want to say ‘fuck you’…but that was actually a good one.”

Sanji let out a sort of choked giggle that abruptly escalated into full blown hysterics, arms folded over his stomach as he laughed maniacally. “Oh _man_ , that was unexpected—you’ve never shown an interest in people before. Only a muscle-head like you could turn a homoerotic curse into just another day of training in the life of Roronoa Zoro.”

“Just don’t call me gay—I fucking hate labels—and I like women, too.”

“Nah, I won’t. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“So are we good? You’re not gonna hunt down this Logan guy and kick his face in? He just wanted to be rid of his fear of death. It probably takes a long time to reach 100 kisses, and that’s gotta be pretty tough to achieve on the island where the curse originated. You really _would_ have to resort to kissing any dirty pirate who came along. He lucked out with you, though.”

Sanji had managed to stop laughing, but he was still grinning like a moron when Zoro snuck in the offhanded compliment. It wasn’t as sly as he’d thought because the cook noticed immediately. “Yeah, I’m pretty damn fine for a pirate, aren’t I?” he said cockily. “Tell me the truth, what kind of indecent thoughts were you _really_ having when you were saving my life?”

“It was absolutely NOT like that, pervert-cook! You looked as dead as a corpse! I couldn’t even feel you breathing until halfway through, and I’m not into necrophilia.”

“With the image of me on my death-bed aside, do you find me attractive, marimo?” Sanji asked coyly.

“I can’t answer that with your sensitive ego,” Zoro told him, giving nothing away.

“Tch. That figures—can’t even admit it. I know I’m hot as hell.”

“Your head’s definitely big enough to hold all the hot air in hell,” he fired back.

“Fuck you!”

“Maybe on my death-bed.”

Sanji put their banter on hold, grabbing Zoro’s collar again and forcefully closing the distance between them. His lips pressed against Zoro’s with quick, insistent pressure, causing the swordsman to be the one to gasp into the other’s mouth this time. It was so unexpected that it took a moment for him to relax the muscles in his jaw and soften against the blond, but Sanji abruptly broke contact before Zoro could properly return the kiss with any measure of competence.

The cook let him go instantly, a blush coloring his pale skin like a sunburn as Zoro gaped at him in stunned silence. Sanji's gaze shifted to the floor in a nervous gesture, and he seemed to be holding his breath. “There. Now we’re almost even,” he said quickly. 

“Almost?” Zoro asked weakly.

“I just did that without your permission, so now you don’t have to feel bad about before. I was conscious for the end of it, so it’s almost the same situation. I still haven’t payed you back for saving my life yet, but don’t…don’t expect _that_ kind for payment,” he said firmly, spinning on his heel to resume his work at the counter.

“What if my life needs saving, and Luffy isn’t around to slobber all over my face?”

Sanji paused in the middle of furiously chopping a vegetable. After a moment, he said quietly, “I’ll save it as many times as you need. Now get the fuck out of my kitchen, shitty-swordsman. I’m behind schedule for this dinner, and I might accidentally mistake you for a head of lettuce or some broccoli. Tell everyone it’ll be ready in an hour.”

Zoro felt a goofy grin spreading across his face and was glad that the cook had turned his back to him. “Okay,” he replied, not realizing that the blond was also grinning to himself.

Sanji could hear the smile in the swordsman's voice.


	5. Come Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Come Together" by The Beatles

The Straw Hats set sail that afternoon, leaving Loa behind and taking the Curse of 100 Kisses with them. Nami and Robin didn’t have any information on the next island or how long it would take to reach it, so Zoro had no choice but to endure the effects of the curse until they could dock at what they hoped would be an inhabited island. He’d been forced to put his training on hold because it seemed to escalate the symptoms and only served to tire him out faster. That is, until Sanji started making him snacks on a regular basis.

The routine had started sometime after Zoro had complained over breakfast about how anxious he was to be able to use his weights again. He’d been sitting in the crow’s nest, shooting longing glances at his personal gym and watching the crew’s antics from the open window, when he saw the cook fluidly climbing the rigging with one hand while balancing a covered silver platter on the other. Zoro opened the hatch for him, taking the platter when it was wordlessly handed to him. Sanji lit up a cigarette, leaning against the wall as he took a deep drag and blew the smoke out the window.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up before your workout,” he said casually.

Zoro uncovered an artfully made sandwich, stuffed full with three of his favourite meats, and a tall bottle of ice-cold water to keep him hydrated. “Though I appreciate the protein, I don’t think I should be pumping iron with this curse in affect. It just makes it impossible for me to stay awake the day after, and it honestly feels like it does my muscles more harm than good.”

“I wasn’t talking about the sandwich,” Sanji told him as he walked over from his spot at the window. “You always do your workouts at the same time every day, so I figured the least I could do is bring you a snack and reset the curse. That way nobody has to hear you bitch about missing your reps and getting flabby.” He held his cigarette away from his face in expectation.

Zoro watched the other man’s expression carefully, but Sanji had a master poker-face. He appeared perfectly calm—as if he were offering to turn back the hands on a clock rather than kiss the swordsman to reset the curse.

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. I can manage alright with missing a few sessions,” he said without thinking. _Only an idiot would pass up that offer_ , he scolded himself immediately after. As much as Zoro would enjoy kissing the cook, he didn’t want the blond to feel uncomfortable or pressured into it because of the serious situation.

“It’s fine,” Sanji told him with a shrug. “Not like I haven’t done it before.” They both thought about the other night in the galley and had to look away to hide their respective blushes. “Besides, do you really want to kiss Luffy again? Or Franky and Usopp? You’ll either be cut by the cyborg’s metal nose or lose an eye when Usopp’s impales you—and you said that you weren’t into necrophilia, so Brook is out.”

“You’re right. I don’t particularly want to do that with any of them, but you’re assuming that I’d prefer kissing _you_ , curly-brow.”

Sanji’s eye narrowed in anger, his lit cigarette burning away as they squared up with each other. “Who _wouldn’t_ with these options? Don’t be such an ungrateful bastard, marimo. You’ll take what you can get.”

“Well, I _could_ just skip the reps and let the curse work until I’m bedridden. Then you’d have to cook all of my meals and bring them to me like you did today,” Zoro suggested with an evil grin.

“Don’t push your luck, asshole, or I’ll sic Luffy on you instead!”

“Alright, alright, no need to bring that rubber idiot into this. Come here, shitty-cook.”

Before Sanji could initiate it, Zoro reeled him in by the waist and kissed him slowly. The blond made an indignant noise but let the swordsman hold him in place while the curse worked its magic. He could taste the smoky flavour of Sanji’s lips from his cigarette and feel the rejuvenating warmth spreading from the places where they touched all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. When it had completely filled him, he leaned back and immediately felt Sanji’s hands shove at his chest.

“Why the hell did you have to hold me like that? I’m not a girl!” he sputtered in embarrassment.

“So what if you aren’t? I don’t kiss as stoically as I hold my swords, and I didn’t know where else to put my hands,” he explained innocently.

Sanji growled and turned on his heel to stomp back to the hatch. “Maybe I’ll let you wither away in the infirmary after all…and I’ll make  _Usopp_ cook your meals!”

“Aww come on, that’ll just kill me faster!” he said as Sanji retreated down the rigging. “Thanks for the pick-me-up, by the way. It was tasty,” he added mockingly to the already irate blond.

“JUST SHUT UP AND PUMP YOUR DAMN IRON,” the cook shouted back, “AND DON’T FORGET TO RETURN MY FUCKING PLATTER!”

Zoro chuckled, feeling better than he had in days, and resumed his scheduled workout. Regardless of what he had threatened, the cook continued to meet Zoro in the crow’s nest with healthy snacks to keep the swordsman energized. Nothing was more invigorating than the touch of Sanji’s lips, though, and eventually the cook even stopped complaining when Zoro held him properly.

It took 13 more kisses to reach the next island, which was a week-long sail from Loa, and Sanji had made 12 trips to the crow’s nest before Zoro's exercise sessions (the swordsman had them six days a week, once in the morning and once in the evening, excluding Sunday). The extra kiss had been quick and sweaty behind one of Nami’s tangerine trees because there had been a sudden attack from marines in the middle of the night, and Zoro had needed an energy boost during the fight. He could have done without it, of course, but he would take any excuse to have an extra lip-lock with the cook, and the few bloody lacerations he’d received in battle had been enough to convince the blond to steal a moment of privacy and provide the extra assistance.

Zoro kept their kissing chaste and never let his emotions get the better of him for fear of pushing the already high-strung cook too far. He wasn’t sure if Sanji even enjoyed kissing him or if he was just bearing with it for Zoro’s sake because he felt obligated. They kept careful track of the number of kisses, so they would know when the count was nearing 100. Zoro didn’t want to accidentally give Sanji the curse again, nor anybody else who didn’t deserve it, and he had decided to use more discretion than Logan had when choosing who would be his final kiss.

“LAND HO!” Luffy shouted as the Sunny bumped against a wooden dock. They dropped anchor, eager to explore what had turned out to be a densely populated commercial island called Delos. After an afternoon of exploring the marketplace (or getting lost, in Zoro’s case) the effects of the curse had begun to make him feel rundown, so he was on the hunt for a more specialized bar better suited to his particular needs when he bumped into the cook on his usual rounds of shopping.

“Perfect timing, marimo. Help me carry the supplies back to the ship,” he said expectantly, handing Zoro a large stack of parcels. He split the stack once it was in the swordsman’s hands and began walking without even looking to see if Zoro was following since he just assumed that the other man would.  

“Isn’t the ship back that way?” Zoro commented.

“No, but your brain might be. Just let me lead, idiot-swordsman.” They took the supplies into the galley where Sanji quickly unloaded them with precise, graceful movements. He broke off humming to himself when he noticed Zoro tiredly dragging his feet out the door. “Oi, where are you going?”

“Thought I’d head back to town and get a drink with someone,” he said absently as Sanji followed him out onto the deck.

The cook paused suddenly in his stride. “Oh—you mean because of the curse,” he caught on.

Zoro shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Maybe this island has some quality liquor. Might even find some good company.”

He leaned against the wooden railing and looked casually out at the far-away lights of the commercial district, but he was actually hyper-aware of Sanji’s reaction because he wanted to know if the cook cared at all that Zoro was looking elsewhere for someone to reset his curse.

After a short pause, the blond said, “How about I come along? I could use a drink after all the work I did today, and I’ll even be your wing-man.”

“I don’t think you want to do that…” Zoro started. “You might not be comfortable with the kind of place I’ll be looking to drink at.”

“Uh, why not?”

“Think about that for a minute, love-cook. Where does one go to find men interested in kissing men?”

Sanji’s mouth fell open when it finally clicked. “Oh, you’re talking about a gay bar.” He joined Zoro at the railing, lighting a cigarette to take a drag before saying, “Nah, I don’t care about that. I just want to do something. We’ve all been cooped up on the Sunny for the past week.”

“Alright...if you’re sure. Let’s go now.”

They argued on the way about whether or not Sanji should have changed clothes before going to a sketchy bar. Apparently, he was wearing a particularly nice suit, and Zoro had to admit that it _did_ look fantastic both in quality and presentation—not that anything Sanji wore didn’t look amazing on him. Zoro was secretly excited to see how much attention the attractive blond would receive tonight, though he was sure it would make him irrationally jealous if any man hit on his crewmate.

The bar they found was called The Cell Block, and it seemed to be frequented by native islanders and pirates alike. As expected, there was a greater ratio of men to woman, but the music and atmosphere were pleasantly neutral. No one stood out in particular to Zoro, who immediately headed to the bar-stools with Sanji trailing behind him and looking around in a daze. Obviously, he wasn’t as used to seeing same-sex couples enjoying the leisure of PDA and was doing a poor job of giving them privacy.

“Try not to stare, curly. You’ll draw unwanted attention to yourself,” Zoro said with a smirk. He ordered them a round of the house blend and pulled Sanji onto the stool next to him. “By the way, how drunk were you when you met ‘Lola’?”

“I wasn’t. I’d only had two beers.”

“Then I’m cutting you off at three tonight.”

“Fuck off, I can handle myself.”

“We’ll see about that,” Zoro said, chuckling as he tossed back half of his first beer. He licked his lips in appreciation of the flavour and surveyed the room. There was a good mix of different races and body types among the male patrons, but Zoro was looking at their faces—specifically, their eyes. He could usually guess what kind of personality a person had based on the look in their eyes and the path they chose to take. He didn’t think he’d have any trouble finding a suitable companion among such a large group.

“So, what are you into, marimo? I’m not the best judge of male beauty to begin with, and I certainly can’t get into _your_ thick head,” Sanji told him, nursing his beer as he fiddled with the handle.

“I don’t really have a type. At least, not physically. I like people who are strong in body and mind—who could put up a good fight in the streets _and_ the sheets,” he explained nonchalantly.

Sanji just stared at him like he’d never seen him before, but then he shook himself and seemed to really think about Zoro’s words. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me coming from a muscle-head like you. Point someone out then—give me at least _something_ to go off of.”

Zoro did another quick sweep of the room, his eyes settling on a flash of blond hair in the crowd of dancers. A tall, lanky man was swinging his arms and bumping hips with another man from his group of friends, who all appeared to be having a grand time. His face was all angles and smooth planes—not at all like Sanji’s strong jaw and well-trimmed scruff. He didn’t have blue eyes either, but there was something about the happy smile that reminded Zoro of the cook’s whenever he set food on the table for his nakama to enjoy.

“He’s cute,” Zoro commented offhandedly.

Sanji scrutinized the man carefully. “Looks a bit underfed to me,” he remarked, finally tipping back his beer and taking a large swallow. “What do you like about him in particular?”

“He’s blond,” Zoro said, noticing how Sanji tensed at that, “and he looks like he’s having fun.”

“I thought you said you liked people who were strong? He doesn’t look like he could even win against Nami-san’s fists.”

“Hmm...I guess I’ll have to challenge him to a fight. You can’t judge a book by its cover—but you’ve seen yourself in the mirror, so I’m sure you understand that.” 

Sanji was affronted for a moment until he caught the swordsman’s sly compliment on his strength. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, even finishing his beer before Zoro, who had been distracted enough to leave a few sips in the bottom of his tankard. They ordered two more, which had already arrived by the time Sanji thought of a response.

“Only you would try to woo a man by challenging him to a fight. Such a brute. As I expected, you have no finesse at all. It’s a good thing I’m here.”

Zoro thought about that, surveying the room again for eyes trained in their direction. “I wonder about that,” he said suddenly. “We didn’t think this through very well. You fit right in here, which could pose a problem.”

“What do you mean by that?!” Sanji asked him, preparing to be offended.

Zoro chuckled. “Have you ever heard the term ‘metrosexual’? You could be mistaken for a gay man in a regular bar,” he explained teasingly.

“Why, just because I wear nice suits and know what manners are? Who cares if people think I’m gay? We’re in a _gay bar_ ,” he reminded him, taking another swig.

“Yeah, and we look like we’re together, dumbass.”

Sanji choked on his sip of beer, quickly taking another swig to sooth his cough and hide his flushing cheeks. “N-no way—I’m not even touching you,” he got out.

“I could be putting on the moves,” Zoro joked.

“More like the other way around, Neanderthal.”

“I don’t know, you’re more the stereotypical bottom.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Relax, I’m just telling it like it is, noodle-frame.”

Sanji gaped at him in horror. “I do NOT have a noodle-frame!”

“You look like one of those sticks of pasta you soak in boiling water to make spaghetti.”

“Shut up, shitty-swordsman! I’m just lanky! Why don’t you go talk to your malnourished blond and let me drink in peace?”

“Nah, I’m having too much fun here.”

Sanji fumed in silence, red-faced and steaming, while Zoro just smirked into his mug and ignored the other man’s distress. He really was having fun teasing the cook—too much fun to even consider going through with what he’d come here for. He hadn’t been in the mood for anything besides a quick pick-me-up from a handsome stranger, but now he especially wanted to leave with _his_ blond.

He realized that he might have gone too far when Sanji slammed his tankard down and stood up from his stool. He gestured for a third beer, glaring at Zoro as the bartender handed it to him. “I’ll let you get on with it since I’m just slowing you down. See you back at the ship—if you can even find your way from wherever you shack-up.”

Zoro felt a twinge of annoyance at Sanji’s assumption that he was going to have a one-night-stand with a stranger, but the cook had already been swept away with the tide of people before he could comment. Almost immediately, a redheaded man who had been watching the pair of them slid into Sanji’s unoccupied seat and tipped his head by way of a greeting.

“That was a dramatic exit,” he commented, nodding in the direction where the cook had wandered off. Zoro just grunted and sipped his beer. “If you’re looking for less bitchy company, I’m your man.”

The swordsman paused mid-sip and glared at him. “Is that so?”

“It looked like that twink was giving you trouble. I promise I’ll be much sweeter...”


	6. Yoü and I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Yoü and I" by Lady Gaga

Sanji glanced over his shoulder as he stormed off, watching with detached indifference as a moderately handsome pirate took his place beside Zoro. He knew that they were talking about him by the way the redheaded man gestured his way, but he didn’t stick around to watch more. Zoro could put the moves on whoever he wanted. _Why did I come here with him?_ he thought sullenly. _I don’t even know how to be a wing-man. I just wanted to go out._

With Zoro.

He shook the thought out of his head. He was letting this business with the curse get to him—it was making him feel…things...that complicated his relationship with the swordsman. Sanji knew that he loved ladies and would do anything to make them smile—he was a gentleman, after all—but ever since Zoro had revealed his lack of preference for either gender, Sanji had started thinking about their kisses in a different way and wondering if Zoro actually _enjoyed_ them—not just because he liked men, but because he liked Sanji. He’d so much as said so when they’d been drinking sake together—the cook remembered that much…and also something involving his apron, which he was glad he couldn’t completely recall since he was sure it was even more embarrassing than the fact that he’d told Zoro he liked him, too.

Sanji couldn’t deny that he didn’t mind when Zoro kissed him. In fact, he was often tempted to deepen the kisses, just to see how the swordsman would react. Would he be smooth and gentle or passionate and forceful? The latter seemed more likely since Zoro had outright said that he liked people who could put up a good fight in the streets _and_ the sheets…

The cook was abruptly snapped out of his musings when a hand roughly gripped his wrist, jerking him to a stop. For a split second, he expected it to be Zoro, but then he turned and stared straight into the face of the stranger who had taken his bar-stool. “What the fuck do you want?” he snapped viciously, yanking his hand from the other man’s grip.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you? Fucking twink.”

Sanji didn’t know what the word meant, but he could tell by the other man’s tone that it was being used to insult him. “Do I know you, shit-head?” he asked reflexively with growing annoyance.

Something clicked in his memory a moment later, and he recognized the stranger’s violently red hair from the bar where he’d met “Lola.” Before he could comment on it, the man’s face contorted in anger as he made to lash out at the blond. Sanji ducked into a crouch and swept one long leg across the floor, knocking the creep onto his ass without even spilling his beer. The other pirate winced and held a hand to his jaw despite the fact that the fall couldn’t have injured his face in any way. The cook stood and sneered down at him, deciding that he wasn’t very handsome after all before turning to walk away. He sensed that the man was getting up and attempting to lunge at him when his back was turned, but Sanji didn’t end up having to defend himself because the scuffle had caught the attention of the surrounding patrons, and a group of men had moved to intercept the attack. Two of them began beating the pirate as they dragged him out of the bar while the other two approached Sanji.

“That guy was gonna hit you from behind!” one of them said.

“What a damn coward. Hey, are you alright?”

“A pretty guy like you shouldn’t be getting into bar fights, but you seemed to handle yourself well enough against that pirate.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the help, but I’m a pirate, too. Someone that spineless can’t hurt me,” Sanji told them, ignoring the way he was suddenly being leered at. It wasn’t that he had a problem with gay men or didn’t appreciate their interest. In fact, if he were being honest, he was curious enough to have even opened up to the idea of entertaining male company—just not any of _these_ men.

“Wow, you’re a pirate, too? No wonder you looked so calm. What are you doing here all by yourself? It’s more fun with friends. You wanna join us at our table?”

The offer was innocent enough, but the two men seemed to be taking turns giving him appreciative once-overs while the other tried to hold his attention, and he got the distinct sense that they were looking for more than a "friend" to enjoy a couple of beers with. Sanji jumped when he felt a hand at the small of his back, sliding around his waist. He was about to reprimand the owner of said arm until he felt his side press against the distinctive shape of someone who worked out twice a day, except for Sundays, and wore a haramaki.  

“Sorry, but he’s with me,” Zoro told them firmly. His hand held Sanji tightly against him as he drew the cook away from the disappointed males. “Sorry,” the swordsman repeated, except this time he was talking to Sanji as he hastily let him go and put some distance between them.

“Huh?” Sanji said dumbly, distracted by the sudden loss of warmth.

“You didn’t look like you wanted to go with them, but I was just assuming that based on your irritated face. Then I grabbed you without your permission again…and I was also the one who pissed off that fucking ape who came after you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve seen him before, and he’s a class A douchebag,” Sanji said instantly, looking around in confusion when he went to have another sip of his beer and discovered that Zoro had taken it from him and set it down someplace while they’d been walking. It had gotten so dark that he hadn’t even noticed them leaving the bar until he caught the distant scent of the ocean on the wind. “How did you piss him off, anyway?”

Zoro squeezed the fingers on his right fist reflexively, and the cook noticed that a few of his knuckles were bruised. “He was talking shit about you, that’s all.”

“If that was all then why’d you clock him so hard in the jaw?” Sanji asked, remembering the way the pirate had held his face after being knocked on his ass.

“He pissed _me_ off, that’s why.”

“Well thanks for defending my fucking honor, I guess,” Sanji snapped.

“Are you mad?”

“Not really. Just annoyed because apparently _I’m_ the girl. It’s not my fault I was born with a slender bone structure, you know.”

“Sanji.” The cook’s eyes snapped up to meet Zoro’s at the sound of his name, so rarely spoken on the swordsman’s lips. He sounded very tired, and suddenly it was clear that the curse was still draining his energy. “You know that I was just kidding around when I was teasing you about those stereotypes, right? I don’t really think like that. It’s stupid. We’re pretty equally matched, you and I.”

Sanji felt his pulse jump at the phrase. He was having trouble breathing and was infinitely grateful that it was nighttime, so Zoro wouldn’t be able to see him blush. “Of course we are. You might have the advantage when it comes to upper body strength, but if there were such a thing as leg-wrestling, I’d kick your ass every time.”

“I’m sure we could invent it,” Zoro smirked, “…as a form of training, of course.”

 Sanji mirrored his smirk, happy that he seemed to be forgiven for his earlier behaviour. “Can we go back to the ship?”

“I can’t. I booked the night at a hotel nearby.”

“You did _what?_ ” Sanji asked, shocked. He hadn’t _actually_ expected Zoro to leave the bar with a stranger, and even if he did, he shouldn’t have been able to afford his own hotel room. “Don’t you owe Nami-san a ton of money that she’s still collecting interest on?”

“Yeah, but I happened to pick up a small-time bounty earlier today. The guy just picked a fight with me on the docks, and I recognized him from one of the wanted posters, so I dropped him off at a marine base in town and used the reward to pay for the room. Don’t tell the sea-witch.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t for what you’re thinking,” he clarified. “I just wanted a comfortable bed and a night alone to think about some stuff.”

“Well, what’s it called? I’ll escort you since there’s no way you’ll make it in this darkness before morning, directionless-marimo.”

Zoro told him, and Sanji got simple directions from the barmaid standing outside. They walked quickly, with Sanji in the lead, until the front doors of the hotel were in plain view for the stupid swordsman. He swung them open and looked back at Sanji, who had stopped in the middle of the street. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked, disappearing inside before the cook could answer.

Sanji followed him into the lobby, surprised but pleased to have been invited inside. He waited for Zoro to check in and get the room key, trailing after him to the elevators. The hotel was extremely ritzy and must have cost a pretty penny even for just a night. A complimentary bottle of wine was waiting for them on the table. Sanji hung his jacket in the wide closet and surveyed the tasteful room. The far wall was entirely made out of windows, offering an amazing vantage point above the town from their place on the tenth floor. The moon was out, hanging full and luminous above the sparkling ocean on the distant shore.

There was only one bed, though it was big enough that multiple people could have enjoyed it in comfort while overlooking the beautiful view.

“Pop that cork, will you? I’m not a huge fan of wine, but I am a fan of free,” Zoro told him. His hands shook slightly as he handed Sanji the bottle. The cook ignored this show of weakness, attributing it to the effects of the curse, and poured them each a cup in two of the glasses provided. He probably shouldn’t have ignored the trembling since the swordsman ended up accidentally spilling the cherry-colored liquid down the front of Sanji’s white dress-shirt when he moved to take the glass from him.

“Shit! I didn’t mean to—my fingers were shaking. I’m sorry, Cook.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I soak it with warm water now, I can remove the stain later when I do the laundry,” he told him, swiftly unbuttoning the dress-shirt. Zoro watched the precise movements of his fingers with an amount of fascination that could only come from a man who dressed as if he’d never seen a button in his life. The cook paused when he noticed how Zoro’s eyes trailed down the exposed length of his bare chest and reached for his own glass of wine. He drained the red liquid in a rather inelegant fashion, hoping it would give him a tiny burst of courage for what he had just decided to do. The unusual action seemed to catch Zoro’s attention, and he stared at the empty cup with mild confusion.

“What happened to savouring the taste of fine wine?”

“I need to take care of this spill before it dries in the fabric,” he said smoothly, whipping the shirt off in one fluid motion. The swordsman regarded him carefully, neither of them bothering to feign modesty since they’d seen each other shirtless many times before. In fact, Sanji was sure they’d seen all of their male crewmembers naked on at least one occasion—it was unavoidable in the pirate life when so many of them shared a room.

This was a very different situation because Sanji wasn’t undressing in front of Zoro for practicality—he could’ve just gone into the bathroom to take care of the stain—no, he was curious to see what the swordsman would do, and what he himself would do, now that they were removed from the crew and the patrons of the bar.

They were completely alone.

“Sit down on the bed,” he heard himself say. Zoro bristled slightly at the commanding tone in the cook’s voice, but he did as he was asked and waited quietly at the edge of the bed while Sanji quickly removed the worst of the wine stain in the bathroom.

He took the opportunity to look at himself in the mirror, pleased that he still appeared put-together despite the raging emotions inside him. A ball of nervous anxiety seemed to weigh down his stomach like a stone, and he prayed that it wouldn’t cause him to be sick after drinking so much liquor. Sanji took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and alleviate some of the flush on his face before re-entering the bedroom where Zoro was still sitting, silent as a statue and silhouetted by the white light of the moon behind him.

“Did it come out?” he asked casually as Sanji slowly approached him. The cook didn’t even pause to answer. He slid onto the swordsman’s lap before he could lose his nerve, pinning Zoro’s legs between his own and settling himself with his arms lightly draped over the other man’s shoulders. A small gasp escaped Zoro’s lips, and he automatically gripped Sanji’s bare waist. He quickly loosened the pressure, hands hovering lightly above the cook’s pale skin as though he weren’t entirely sure the action would be allowed.

“You can touch me,” Sanji reassured him softly. “I’m going to reset your curse now.” He brought his lips down to the swordsman’s, parting them invitingly.

Zoro didn’t seem able to comprehend what was happening because he stilled at the action and shifted as if he were about to pull away. Sanji didn’t let him, tightening his hold around the other man’s neck and crushing them together. He wanted to _really_ taste Zoro—to know what it would feel like to be kissed by him for real and not just as a means to an end because of the stupid curse. He had been wondering about it ever since they’d started meeting consistently for business-like exchanges that left everything to the imagination.

In case their position hadn’t been enough of an indication, Sanji drew the tip of his tongue along Zoro’s bottom lip in a clear sign that he wanted to deepen the kiss. The other man hesitantly met the cook’s insistent tongue with his own, groaning in pleasure as the curse finished working its magic and infusing his weakened body with revitalising energy. A spark seemed to ignite the swordsman’s passion all at once, and he was unable to contain himself any longer. He pulled Sanji closer, until his pale chest met soft fabric, and suddenly the cook was straddling him with those powerful legs. They battled for dominance, never parting as the kiss became more and more heated.

Sanji was reeling—he didn’t know what he had expected, but it hadn’t been _this._ It was as if something primal had awakened inside him, bursting like a dam that had been straining against the weight of his emotions for some time now. Zoro’s hands were on him, running up and down his spine in achingly slow strokes that sent shivers straight to his groin. He could feel the beginnings of an erection and was surprised at how quickly his little experiment had turned mild curiosity into intense desire.   

He broke contact for air, gripping the front of Zoro’s shirt so that he could pull the other man back as soon as he could breathe again, but the swordsman turned his face away when the blond leaned in to continue. “Wait,” he said, his deep voice sounding husky and lustful—that one word had Sanji immediately panting with need, and he had half a mind to ignore the command and kiss him again anyway. “Maybe we should stop. I don’t know if you’re drunk—”

Sanji cut him off by roughly shoving the other man’s shoulders back against the mattress and growling, “I’m not drunk, you son of a bitch! What happened to us being equals, huh? Don’t act like you could take advantage of me even if you wanted to.”

Zoro stared up at him in nothing short of wonder. “Sorry…it’s just—it feels like a dream. It can’t be real,” he explained weakly.

“Shut the fuck up! If it weren’t real, would I be shit-talking you and calling you a damn marimo-bastard?”

“Well…yeah, that’s exactly what you’d do—it’s what you always do.”

Sanji leaned over the swordsman, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt with a confident grin that he hadn’t known he possessed for such an occasion, or at least, not with a man under him. “Put your fucking arms up, shitty-swordsman.”

Zoro complied without another word, and Sanji yanked the white fabric over his green hair. He drank in the sight of Zoro’s toned chest, marred by scars that each marked a hard-won battle—all but the largest scar from Mihawk, which was both a symbol of his greatest loss as well as his incredible resolve. Zoro’s dream to be the greatest swordsman had never seemed too different from Sanji’s dream to find the All Blue—they both wanted to become masters in their own art and prove that even the most impossible feat could be accomplished if you believed that you could do it and never gave up.  

The cook dived down to kiss him again, growling in frustration when he was denied for a second time. Zoro turned his face away and abruptly sat up in a motion that would've thrown Sanji to the floor if not for his hands gripping the blond’s torso. “Sorry, but there’s another slight problem. I have to keep count of the kisses for the curse, and I won’t be able to do that if we’re making out. I don’t even know if kissing multiple times in a row will count, so…”

“Making out? Are we fourteen?” Sanji teased.  Zoro leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek, prompting the cook to add, “What, are you my grandmother now?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, echoing Sanji’s earlier words. It was the blond’s turn to gasp when Zoro’s lips latched onto the side of his neck and began trailing wet, sensual kisses down his throat with sudden abandon.

“Shit,” he moaned when the other man’s teeth nipped the skin at his collarbone. The swordsman’s tongue ran over the stinging bite, soothing the flesh and igniting the pulse beneath it. Sanji felt heat blossoming in his face as Zoro began to move lower, creating a burning trail of kisses that ended at his right nipple. None of his previous lovers had ever played with his nipples, let alone sucked them like that, but it was surprisingly erotic. Zoro’s teeth scraped over the swelling bud, causing a small cry to escape the cook when a quick stab of pain shot through him. He was arching his back, threading fingers into Zoro’s hair, and half-thrusting against the swordsman’s lap with each thrum of pleasure. He unconsciously pulled at the green patch, causing Zoro to hiss at its rough treatment.

“Try not to yank it out by the roots, will you?” he growled.

“I thought it could use a good weeding. Maybe I want to tee-off for a round of golf later, marimo.”

“Ha ha, very funny. You’re quite the comedian tonight. Why don’t you put on a show for me while I play a round of darts, curly-brow?”

“Only if you ask me nicely.”

“As if. I’m the director, so you have to do what I say,” he replied slyly, sliding his hands down Sanji’s chest. All joking aside, the swordsman paused when his fingers reached the cook’s pant-line so that Sanji would clearly understand his intention. “Is this alright?” he asked quietly, looping a finger into the blond’s waistband. In lieu of an answer, Sanji knocked the swordsman’s hand away and made quick work of unfastening himself, yanking the strip of leather out of his belt loops and tossing it aside.

“Damn it, Cook! You stole the best part!”

“Do yours then,” Sanji suggested, sliding off of Zoro’s lap. He took a step back, hooking his fingers into his pockets so that his pants rode down on his hips and accentuated the V-shaped indentations that disappeared below. The cook had never seen Zoro move faster outside of battle than in that moment—articles of clothing went flying (swords laid carefully aside) as the other man stripped to his boxers, which were already tented in the middle, and patiently waited for Sanji to do the same.

The blond purposely took three times as long to remove his pants and socks. He got a kick out of watching Zoro watch him as if it really _were_ a show. Sanji liked the idea of letting Zoro direct them tonight—if he were being honest, he was starting to get nervous about what to do next. He knew what he _wanted_ , but he didn’t know how to ask the swordsman to do it. The cook had never seen Zoro with an erection, so he figured he should display his own to prompt the other man to do the same. Swallowing his sudden insecurity about being the first one to get naked, he reached down to free his member from the strained fabric, but Zoro shook his head and said, “Come over here,” gesturing for Sanji to join him on bed. They knelt in front of one another on the mattress, each waiting for the other to make a move first.

“It’ll be morning by the time you decide to touch me, marimo,” Sanji complained.

He just wanted Zoro to _do_ something so that he would know how to respond and feel less like an inexperienced virgin. It hadn’t been a comfortable period in his life the first time around when he’d lost his virginity to an older woman. Now, he felt like that all over again—young and horny but unsure of how to proceed. It was odd, to say the least, since Sanji was the opposite of inexperienced when it came to women, but this…this was all new territory. It was exhilarating and frustrating in equal measure to be so unprepared for the next step.

“What’s the rush? You look beautiful with all of this the pale moonlight shining in here. Can’t I just appreciate it for a minute?”     

Sanji looked at him incredulously. He couldn’t remember ever being called beautiful, not even by a woman—handsome, sexy, or cute maybe…but never beautiful. He wasn’t sure how to react—wasn’t even sure he _was_ beautiful. The cook found himself reaching out first, wanting to touch Zoro and feel those hard muscles moving beneath his palm. He took in the sight of his tanned skin, stark against the pale backdrop of the bed sheets and whitewashed walls, and Sanji didn’t have to wonder if Zoro was beautiful—he already knew that he was.

They both ran out of patience at precisely the same time, crashing against each other in a tangle of limbs. Zoro’s body was stretched out above him, hips pinning Sanji’s to the mattress. The delicious friction between their groins was maddening—he wanted to scream at the swordsman to hurry up and take off their damn boxers, but he couldn’t find his voice amidst his own panting breath. Zoro’s lips were all over him, sucking and biting with fervor—no doubt leaving marks in places where only they would see.

Sanji rubbed up against him, pleased when Zoro shifted so that his thigh aligned with the blond’s cock. He could feel that Zoro was similarly aroused, his hard length pressing against Sanji’s leg. The cook gripped soft green hair, pulling the other man down so that he could catch the swordsman’s three golden earrings in his mouth. He sucked and nibbled at the earlobe just to give himself something to concentrate on other than the throbbing erection that was beginning to feel painful in the confining fabric of his underwear.

“Zoro,” he said, smiling when the swordsman groaned at the sound of his own name being whispered in his ear. “Let me take my boxers off. Please?”

The blond blinked, and suddenly he was naked. His erection sprang free as Zoro yanked the material to his ankles, ducking his head to place slow, wet kisses along Sanji’s happy trail. He skipped over the cook’s erection, gripping Sanji’s ankles and bending his legs to allow for more kissing down the length of his inner thigh—no one had _ever_ kissed him there, so it felt all the more intimate because it was the first time.

Zoro seemed to be particularly invested in worshiping the cook’s legs—his tongue licked along the inside, hands splayed across each thigh as the powerful muscles quivered beneath the swordsman’s touch. Every few seconds, he would run his fingers down their full length to palm the toned flesh at Sanji’s calves. It was incredibly embarrassing to have his legs receive so much attention when they were usually ignored in favor of more classically attractive aspects of the cook’s body, and the sounds that each touch elicited were threatening to undermine Zoro’s insistence that Sanji wasn’t the “girl.”

“Ahh—mmphf!” The blond’s face burned as he smothered a high-pitched shout with one of his hands while the other clawed the bed sheets as if he were already being pounded into them.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Zoro told him breathlessly. A strong hand gripped the blond’s wrist, gently tugging his arm back to his side. “No one’s gonna hear you.”

“I…I can’t imagine what my face looks like right now, but—”

“You don’t have to worry about it. Just let me make you feel good.”

Sanji took a deep breath, attempting to calm the pounding of his heart and relax his death-grip on the bed sheet. _“Fuck!”_ he hissed. Zoro had suddenly taken his erection into his mouth. Surprisingly soft lips encased the tip of his cock in warmth, tongue licking at the pre-cum dripping from the head—more followed as Zoro gripped his base and began pumping with quick, skillful movements. When he took Sanji’s full length into his mouth, the cook bucked unconsciously and cried out, nearly finishing right then.

It had been a while since he’d last had sex—not since one of the islands before the New World—but the blond masturbated as regularly as possible (which was necessary when one was stranded on a ship for days on end with two beautiful, unattainable ladies and no other means for release), so he couldn’t attribute his early orgasm to a lack of stimulation—rather, it was his genuine attraction to Zoro, as well as the swordsman’s incredible technique, that caused him to unravel so quickly.     

After a few more bobs of his head, Sanji gripped his short green hair in silent warning that he was about to come. He expected the other man to pull back, but he continued diligently with his task until Sanji emptied his load into Zoro’s hot mouth. The swordsman swallowed carefully, humming in the back of his throat when Sanji shouted his name. His lips slid off of the shaft with a slight pop, tongue flicking away the few drops that had escaped.

“You…you…bastard…” Sanji panted.

Zoro gave him a shy smirk, which the cook previously swore couldn’t have existed in the swordsman’s arsenal of expressions, and asked, “Good or bad?”

“Ah…amazing, actually, but you didn’t take off your damn boxers!”

Zoro blinked once and then smiled sheepishly. “I guess I forgot.”

“Are you stupid? It’s not fair! Take them off!” Sanji growled from where he’d collapsed in post-orgasm fatigue.

“What, just so I can put them back on again? You look pretty tired, curly-brow.”

“Are you saying we’re done already? Don’t underestimate my stamina, shitty-swordsman!” Sanji shoved himself into a seated position to prove that he still had energy left, gesturing for Zoro to come closer. He did, dropping another chaste kiss on the cook’s cheek in place of his lips, and Sanji decided that the curse was the worst-best-thing to ever happen to them—he wanted to kiss Zoro properly, damn it!

“You really want to keep going?” Zoro asked him unsurely. Sanji took a risk and gripped the bulge in Zoro’s boxers, praying that he would be able to do it right without having ever touched a man that way before. The action caused the swordsman to yelp in surprise and grab at Sanji’s shoulders, eyes widening.

“Did I ask you to stop?”

“N-no,” Zoro panted, practically whining when Sanji rubbed his palm, achingly slow, over the swordsman’s covered erection, “but I…I don’t want to scare you away,” he confessed quietly.

Sanji paused and stared up into Zoro’s dark eyes, realizing that they had lost their earlier confidence and were displaying real fear over the cook’s reaction come morning. “We’re two of the Monster Trio—since when does anything scare us?”

“This is different,” Zoro told him quietly. “It’s something I’ve always wanted with you, but even if you changed your mind right now, tomorrow, or a month from now…that would be alright as long as we’re still nakama. I can’t lose you, Sanji.”

“We’ll always be nakama, dumbass. As for my reaction to all of this…well, you don’t have to worry about it. Just let me make you feel good,” he told him, repeating Zoro’s earlier words. The swordsman’s grip tightened on his shoulders, dragging the cook closer again. Sanji clumsily resumed his groping, smacking kisses along Zoro’s jaw while his free hand explored the other man’s perfect body. He made a big show of kissing the scar that Mihawk had given him, following the path that the current strongest swordsman’s weapon had taken when Zoro had nearly bled to death right in front of him.

That seemed like ages ago now. Sanji remembered the respect he’d felt in that moment and the jealousy that came with witnessing a man of true resolve fighting for his ridiculous dream—something the cook had been afraid of doing himself until Luffy and his crew had shown up and wreaked havoc at the Baratie. He hadn’t realized it until now, but Zoro’s actions that day had given Sanji the courage to make his decision and leave the only home he’d ever known to search for his dream ocean.

It was then that Sanji made up his mind about how he wanted this night to end. “I swear I’m going to use your own swords to slice up this underwear if you don’t fucking take it off,” he growled into Zoro’s neck. The swordsman finally complied, revealing an impressive erection that exceeded Sanji’s own girth by as much as he exceeded Zoro in length—truly, they were equally matched.

“This is where the spontaneity ends, love-cook. You have to tell me what you want to do.”

“That’s a pretty big word for a moss-head.”

“Enough with the banter. Do you want top or bottom? I don’t want to choose for you,” Zoro said seriously.

Sanji felt his cheeks heat at the swordsman’s words. “You’d let me choose? Even if I wanted to top you?” he asked incredulously.

“Sure. I don’t mind it either way. I really don’t have a preference.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sanji said, amused beyond reason. He couldn’t imagine doing to Zoro what he’d been picturing the swordsman doing to him—it was an enticing possibility for the future, perhaps, but he was not about to take on the responsibility for Zoro’s pleasure when he hadn’t even experienced it that way for himself yet. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” Zoro said slyly.

“Don’t make me say it, pervert-marimo!”

“If you can’t even do that then I don’t think if you’re ready for it,” he teased.

“I’ll never be ready to get a dick up the ass, bastard!”

Zoro chuckled and began feeling around in the drawer of the bedside table. “I beg to differ,” he said, triumphantly holding up a small bottle of lubricant that had been conveniently provided by the hotel. He popped the cap open and moved back to Sanji, who had begun turning his back to the swordsman. “Hey, hey, wait a minute, not like that!”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to do it from behind—I won’t be able to see your face.”

Sanji immediately flushed an angry red. “So you _are_ a pervert!”

“No! I just want to make sure you’re relaxed. Lie down on your back—I’ll walk you through it.”

The cook did as he was told, staring determinedly up at the ceiling while Zoro squirted a generous amount of lube onto his hand. He didn’t want to say it, but he was starting to feel the beginnings of panic setting in. All of the cliché worries flooded his mind—what if it hurt? What if it didn’t fit? What if Sanji hated it because it _really_ hurt? He was about to voice these concerns when Zoro leaned over him and kissed his cheek again, so sweetly that the blond’s eyes widened at the out-of-character tenderness. The swordsman gently held his face in his hand, thumb trailing over the cook’s bottom lip where the kiss should have been. He could taste strawberries.

“Mmm, it’s flavoured,” Zoro commented, sucking the excess lube off his left hand. Sanji felt his groin tighten at the action, jumping at the sudden coldness that touched his entrance. His heartbeat began to race as Zoro slowly massaged the hole with slick fingers. Just when Sanji was beginning to relax into his touch, a finger slipped inside, making him gasp. “Sorry. I’ll warn you when I add one from now on. I just didn’t want you psyching yourself out before it even went in.”

“Thanks for that,” Sanji told him sincerely. He had been waiting for it to hurt and might have called the feeling “pain” had it not been so unexpected, but in actuality, he only felt a slight discomfort at the foreign object inside him. Zoro began to slowly move the finger, lubricating his inner walls and making small thrusting motions to bury it to the knuckle. Sanji began to relax again, focusing on the situation itself rather than the new physical experience alone. He didn’t even notice that he was hard again until Zoro mentioned it.

“You really do have great stamina…unless you’re just a pervert. Are you enjoying it that much?” he asked coyly.

“I’m not sure if I like or dislike it yet—I think I just like that _you’re_ doing it.”

 Zoro smirked cockily, but there was real pride behind the expression. “Give it a minute.”

Shortly after that, Sanji decided that he _did_ like it when Zoro made a “come here” motion, causing Sanji to gasp as a burst of acute pleasure shot through him. “Oh—f-fuck. What was that?!”

“Your prostate, curly-brow. Think of it as the male g-spot.”

“Mmm,” Sanji responded, too distracted by the new sensation to form a coherent answer. He barely cared when Zoro added a second finger, even if his stretched muscles complained at the sudden pain. His opening quickly began to adjust to the second intrusion until Zoro was able to insert both fingers all the way and even spread them apart in a scissoring motion. The cook arched his back, humming when the swordsman beckoned at his prostate again. He could hear his own heart beating as he panted, sweat glistening on his chest as he watched Zoro’s pleased expression. “You’re doing good, Cook. Think you can handle one more?”

Sanji shook his head to indicate that he didn’t want a third. “I can handle you, marimo. Get to the good part.”

“Alright then. Let’s see you act this tough in a few minutes.”

“Bring it on, shitty-swordsman.”

Zoro continued fingering the cook while he attacked the blond’s chest and stomach with a hungry mouth. His own cock was throbbing in anticipation, but he hadn’t spent years meditating to perfect his control over body and mind for him to lose his composure now and rush things with Sanji. The blond seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Zoro’s touch, slowly becoming more and more aroused as the swordsman spoiled him with foreplay while carefully preparing him.

When he was sure that Sanji was ready, Zoro moved himself into the right position and pressed his lubricated tip against the cook’s entrance. Sanji groaned and pulled his knees up to his chest without prompting—Zoro appreciated the extra space as well as the erotic view. One thing was for sure, Sanji wouldn’t have to wait long for Zoro to finish if he kept making those sexy sounds and expressions.

The swordsman ran his hands soothingly along the cook’s sides as he slowly pushed into the tight space. Sanji seemed to be holding his breath, but he wasn’t yelling or cursing at Zoro for hurting him, so the lube had clearly done its job. Incredible warmth enveloped Zoro’s cock, sucking him in and pulsing around him with delicious strength. Sanji flexed unconsciously, and Zoro saw stars.

“Oh, fuck. Shit. Sanji, don’t—ah!” He cried out when the cook repeated the action, clenching his already virgin-tight muscles around Zoro’s length. The swordsman held himself still, partly to give Sanji time to adjust to his size, but mostly to prevent himself from coming prematurely. The blond seemed to be slowly accepting the new position—the muscles in his back and legs had relaxed, allowing the rest of him to open up to Zoro’s slow intrusion. He hissed as the slick cock slid in to the hilt, but he didn’t cry out in pain or pleasure.

“It’s…not as bad as I thought it would be,” Sanji said quietly, reaching out to grip the swordsman’s wrist. “You’re not gonna fuck me like I’m made of glass, right?”

Zoro looked at him, trying to decide if he really meant it or was still trying to act tough for the sake of appearances, but Sanji’s face was flushed, his eyes lustful, and he was still hard even after the painful entry. “I don’t want to hurt you if it’s your first time—”

“Damn it, Zoro, can’t you listen to how I feel for once? Fucking move!” he demanded. A slow, sensual moan slipped out when Zoro executed a practice thrust. “Shit!”

“Are you alright?” the swordsman asked instantly, pausing again.

Only Sanji was flexible enough to loop one leg over Zoro’s shoulder and bash him on the head with the heel of his foot. “You’re such a bastard! If I wasn’t alright then I would’ve kicked you in the damn head before, marimo! Just fuck me already!” His tone was no longer angry or demanding—it was an outright plea. The cook had thrown his head back, unable to hold in his desperate pants any longer. Zoro stared into two blue eyes and felt his cock throb in response…two blue eyes.

“Sanji…” He reached out and ran his fingers through the cook’s blond hair, which had been tossed aside with his last throw of passion, drinking in the vision with wonder. “I can see your whole face!”

“Don’t say it. Don’t you _dare_ —”

“Your eyebrows are both curly!”

“I fucking _hate you_ —ahh!!”

Zoro pulled back and thrust into the cook, gripping his waist to hold him in place. Sanji threw his arms out and held onto the sheets as the swordsman finally gave him what he asked for. He picked up the pace at the blond’s growled request, slamming into him with abandon and abusing the cook’s swollen prostate.

“Oh God—f-fuck! There. Right—mmm!”

Zoro’s mouth crashed down on the cook’s, both of them forgetting to count how many times they kissed. Sanji had locked his arms around the broad shoulders, fingers clawing at Zoro’s back. Their chests were nearly pressed together, thanks to the cook’s incredible flexibility, and their stomachs were creating the perfect friction against Sanji’s throbbing member. Suddenly, he bit down on Zoro’s shoulder—hard enough to draw blood if not for the thick cords of muscle that came from years of training with a sword in one’s mouth. He came violently between them, nails scraping skin off of the swordsman’s back as he rode out his orgasm.

“Marimo…Zoro…'m sorry…”

He was whispering the swordsman’s name again, kissing and sucking apologetically at the place where he’d bitten down. The cook’s tongue flicked over his teeth marks, trailing up and over Zoro’s jaw to lick softly at his earlobe.

The sound of Sanji devoid of his trademark composure, sighing into his ear with complete satisfaction, sent the swordsman over the edge. Heat pooled in his groin, the pressure there building until it had nowhere to go but the cook’s body. He grunted as he spilled into Sanji with a few final erratic thrusts, calling the blond’s name as desperately as his own had been on Sanji’s lips. His vision blurred as the moisture in his eyes threatened to spill out. Zoro collapsed onto the mattress with the cook’s arms still around him as he carefully slid out and pulled the slimmer body against his.

They were sweaty and panting from the exertion, lying in the stained and rumpled sheets, when Sanji’s hand somehow found Zoro’s and the two laced together. The swordsman turned the blond to face him, allowing himself one more appreciative glance before he brushed the cook’s fringe over the left half of his face the way Sanji liked it. One crystal-clear blue eye met his, regarding him with utter amazement.

“I don’t know why, but I can’t fucking believe it…”

“Me neither,” Zoro agreed. “I feel like I’m gonna wake up tomorrow on the Sunny with a raging hard-on, and this will have all been a particularly vivid wet dream—story of my life ever since you joined the crew.”    

“No, I meant because the carpet matches the drapes. I’m trying so hard not to conjure up images of giant worms crawling out of the grass, but they just keep coming.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I think your swirling eyebrows must’ve hypnotized me into thinking that I actually find your unique brand of crazy charming.”

“Hey, I’m plenty charming!”

“If screamers are your definition of charming.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the siren’s song leading sailors to their doom?”

“I wouldn’t exactly compare the sounds you were making to the enchanting music of a siren.”

“Shit-head.”

“Banshee.”

“Fuck off, cactus!”

Sanji’s retorts had no real sting behind them since he was snuggling into the swordsman and relaxing against his side. They were both in desperate need of a shower, but that would have to wait until morning because the cook had already fallen asleep, and Zoro had never been happier in his life. Needless to say, he wasn’t about to leave the love-cook’s side when they were both grinning in absolute contentment.


	7. Never Gonna Give You Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley

Sanji’s internal clock woke him up in the early hours of the morning in time for him to start preparing breakfast before the rest of the crew awoke. He immediately remembered that he wasn’t on the Sunny and was instead lying on an enormous bed in the arms of their swordsman at an expensive hotel. He pushed away the nagging guilt that he had just blown off his morning cooking duties to have sex.

He'd had sex with Zoro. That had actually happened.

The blond stayed where he was, allowing himself a moment to decide how he felt about the night he’d just spent with the swordsman. It had been one of the most mind-blowing things that'd ever happened to him, and he wasn’t quite sure if he should be freaking out because he’d just slept with a man or because it was the marimo of all people. If only his lovely ladies could see him now, thoroughly fucked and covered in his own dried come, they would certainly be overwhelmed with disbelief— _he_ could barely believe it. 

Something wet was slowly dripping down his thigh from his stinging behind, and Sanji was abruptly done with his moment of silent reflection. He slipped out from under the swordsman’s arm, who mumbled something in his sleep and reached out in search of the missing warmth, before dashing into the bathroom to wash the sweat and come from his body. Once he was clean and feeling properly refreshed, he slipped back into the room to find his pants. Remembering that his dress shirt was still stained with wine, Sanji slipped on the swordsman’s trademark white t-shirt, amused at how it hung off of his smaller frame. It smelled like Zoro.  

He was sipping a cup of instant coffee and flipping through the roomservice menu at the table when Zoro roused himself from his slumber with a loud yawn. The green-haired man turned over in bed, stretching his arm out to feel the side where Sanji had been sleeping, before sighing sullenly and curling back into a comfortable cocoon of blankets.

“Oi, marimo. You gonna sleep all day?”

Zoro gasped at the sound of the blond’s voice, shooting up into a seated position and looking wildly around the room. His gaze locked with Sanji’s, face pale as he regarded the cook’s appearance with utter disbelief and comically wide eyes.

“You’re here—I mean, you’re _still_ here.”

“Tch. A ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ would’ve been nice. You look like a damn goldfish with your eyes bugging out like that,” Sanji told him, casually sipping at his coffee—it was terrible, but he desperately needed the caffeine after their energetic romp. It was slightly possible that they _may_ have overdone it a little bit.

“Is that my shirt?” Zoro asked, gesturing for Sanji to come closer.

“The least you can do is lend it to me after spilling on mine.”

He set down his coffee and joined the swordsman in bed, seating himself at the edge so that Zoro could absently run his hand over the cook’s shoulder as if to assure himself that he were real. Zoro didn’t miss the slight wince on his face when the blond sat on the mattress.

“Shit. Are you…?”

“Sore? Yeah. My ass stings like a fucking bitch,” he commented calmly. It was amazing how easy it was for him to act casual after something so unbelievable.

“I’m sorry, I should have shown some restraint. I didn’t expect you to—I mean…”

“It’s fine. I was asking for it.”

“More like begging.”

“That’s…I—I didn’t…bastard!”

“Yeah, that kinda sounds like you can’t even deny it.”

 “Maybe I’ll start denying you your daily pick-me-ups. Say goodbye to training and walking up stairs without getting winded!”

Zoro smirked at him knowingly. “You won’t do that. You’re a cook whose purpose is to feed people and keep their bodies healthy and strong. I should’ve known that I had you when we figured out how the curse worked—you would never stand by and let me suffer like that.”

“Oh, so now you think you own me or something?” Sanji growled, jumping at his choice of words.

“I didn’t say that. I just meant that you were easy to convince under the circumstances.”

“There was no convincing involved, idiot-swordsman. You just…” Sanji paused, trying to think of the best way to describe what he’d been feeling when he decided to be intimate with Zoro. “You just grew on me…like some sort of potted plant that needed daily watering, and the more I watered you, the more enticing you became.”

Zoro chuckled, ruffling the cook’s freshly washed hair just to piss him off. “Have I ever told you that you _might—_ possibly—be sort of remotely funny…just a little bit?”

Sanji glared at him between strands of messy blond hair, making no move to fix its disarray. He looked so gorgeous out of his usual perfectly tailored attire, wearing Zoro’s wrinkled shirt with no socks or tie, hair sticking up all over the place, and no trademark cigarette hanging from those perfect lips. Zoro stole a kiss, unable to help himself.

“Damn it, let me get my bearings first! I haven’t even begun processing what the fuck happened last night. Give me a bit of space before you maul me to death.”

“It was one kiss!” Zoro complained. “Number nineteen…I think…I don’t know for sure. We were at sixteen when we got to the hotel. Then you kissed me when we started, and I think I caved somewhere near the end and kissed you again even though I was trying to avoid it…”

“We fucked up the count, didn’t we?”

“Yep. That’ll make things difficult near the end.”

Sanji sighed. “We’ll worry about it later. Want to order breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Get whatever you want. I’m gonna take a shower first.” Zoro looked down at his stomach, still messy from Sanji’s orgasm, and threw back the covers. The cook felt his cheeks growing warm at the sight of Zoro’s completely naked body, tanned skin contrasting beautifully with the white sheets, and had to resist the urge to put his hands on the swordsman.

There was something different about it now, seeing Zoro like this in the morning, because Sanji could picture him in the dark of the night as he’d been working the blond’s body into a frenzy of eroticism. Flashes of memory were causing the cook to stare, his eyes following Zoro’s every move as he climbed out of bed and picked up his discarded clothes. His backside was particularly distracting because Sanji couldn’t remember getting a very good view of it (though he was sure Zoro had seen plenty of _his),_ and suddenly, he recalled Zoro telling him that he could choose top or bottom.

Sanji found himself wondering if they were going to have sex again and if he’d ever be able to make Zoro feel as good as he’d felt being penetrated by the swordsman. The cook could feel himself becoming hard and had to force his thoughts in another direction. He knew then that he wasn’t interested in a one-time thing—it hadn’t just been some sort of experiment testing the limits of his sexuality—Sanji wanted to do it again and again, even after the curse had been passed on.

He decided to spend the rest of the morning enjoying the after-sex glow, ordering all of their favourite foods from roomservice and surprising the swordsman by paying for their meal so that he wouldn’t have to waste the last of the money he’d earned from the bounty. They ate together in comfortable silence, Sanji still wearing Zoro’s shirt, and Zoro secretly harbouring a sense of pride at seeing the cook in his clothes.

“I told you that anything you decide will be fine with me as long as we’re still nakama, so just…promise that you’ll tell me what you’re thinking after you process what happened,” Zoro told him quietly.

Sanji finished the food on his plate, nodding in agreement. “I don’t know what any of this means to you, or what it’ll mean to me if we continue it…but I’m pretty sure I don’t want last night to be the only time we do it.”

“You mean that? You really enjoyed it?” Zoro asked unsurely.

“Don’t be an idiot, marimo. I wouldn’t have been able to come twice if I hadn’t enjoyed it—and I told you it was good, didn’t I?”

“I think the word you used was amazing.”

“That was only in reference to the blowjob. I’m not really sure about the rest since I don’t have anything to compare it to—we might have to go another couple of rounds.”

“Sure you do—you’ve had sex with plenty of girls.”

“It’s…different. I can’t explain it, but it’s in a whole other category of experiences.”

“As long as you’re happy,” Zoro said absently, devouring his last blueberry waffle with gusto.

 _I am happy,_ Sanji realized with amazement. He hadn’t been this happy in a while. Nothing was really wrong in his life at the moment (other than the usual encounters with danger and near-death experiences, which was only to be expected on their wild pirate adventure), but he could tell that the curse had been giving him something to look forward to ever since Zoro had taken it from him. Sanji’s curiosity had developed into a new kind of desire that even he wasn’t sure he fully understood yet. His body seemed to be ahead of his mind—it craved the swordsman’s touch while his brain was still in the realm of imagination. There were so many things he could see himself doing with Zoro—things that he’d never considered doing with a lady. It would only be a matter of time before he made up his mind to actually initiate those things. _The next few weeks are going to be interesting to say the least_.

***

“Where have you two been all night?” Nami asked immediately when Sanji and Zoro finally returned to the ship. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

“My apologies, Nami-swan! I’m a terrible failure as your cook—I’ll prepare lunch right away and make all of your favourites! Please forgive me!”

Nami waved him off, turning to the swordsman as the blond hastened to the kitchen to start what would inevitably be a top-notch meal surpassing even his usual standards.

“Did something happen?” she asked him suspiciously.

“Like what?”

“Like with the curse. Why didn’t either of you come back to the ship last night? If something happened, you should tell the crew about it—especially if it kept you out of commission all night!”

“No, it was nothing like that,” he assured her. “The cook and I just went to a bar—had a lot to drink, so we just crashed at a cheap hotel instead of trying to make it back to the docks.”

“Really? You had the money for a hotel when you still owe me…how much?”

“Curly-brow took care of it, so get off my back, woman.”

“Pray tell, what fine establishment bested Roronoa Zoro’s liquor tolerance?”

“I don’t remember. What’s with all the questions? I’m a grown man, you know—I can handle myself.”

“Usually I’d agree, but this curse is an unusual circumstance. You seem to be in perfect health even though it’s been more than a week since you picked it up.”

“What do you think I went to the bar for? Now quit bothering me. You’re not the only one who missed Sanji’s cooking—I want to eat lunch.”

“Hmm…you’re missing Sanji’s _something_ ,” Nami muttered to herself as the swordsman stomped away towards the galley.

He found Sanji in the kitchen apologizing profusely to a perfectly content Robin, who was enjoying a cup of coffee and reading at the table. “Nonsense, Cook-san,” she told him kindly. “You work so hard around here. I’m glad you got to enjoy some time off. You _did_ enjoy yourself last night, didn’t you?”

“Huh? Well I—uh…it was nice to take a break, I suppose,” he told her, flustered.

Robin shot Zoro a knowing smile as the swordsman entered the room. She turned back to the blond with a sly grin and said, “I hope Swordsman-san showed you a good time.”

“I—I’m sure I don’t know w-what you mean, Robin-chan.”

“Of course you do. The two of you went out last night, did you not?”

“Oh! Yes, we went to a bar. The shitty-swordsman was looking for some company, so I decided to help him—find some company I mean…because of the curse!” he explained hastily.

She turned from the blushing cook to observe Zoro, stating, “It seems to have worked. I hope you both slept well.” Sanji just stared at her, fiddling nervously with his apron and shooting Zoro admonishing glances in a silent plea for him to jump in and diffuse the awkward situation.

“Stop teasing him, Robin. He’s going to explode.”

“My apologies. I shouldn’t be so cruel,” she told him, laughing softly.

Sanji looked between the two of them in confusion. “You can drop the act, Cook. She knows.”

He stared at Zoro in horror. “You _told_ Robin-chan that we had sex?!”

Robin covered her mouth with a delicate hand, smiling behind it with amusement. “Use your brain, curly. How could I have when you walked in here before me? I meant that she knows you’ve been helping me with the curse.”

Sanji paled and clapped his hand over his mouth in a similar gesture to Robin’s. “Oh, fuck!”

“Don’t worry, Cook-san…I won’t tell,” she promised him, smiling gleefully.

“Oh God, why did I say that?! Robin-chan, I am so sorry! A lady shouldn’t have to hear about such an indelicate affair.”

“Affair? I didn’t realize you were engaging in other relations, curly-brow. You ought to tell a guy these things before you sleep with him.”

“Shut up, marimo, you bastard! I am clearly mortified here, so lay off with the jokes, will you?” He put his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths. “I am going to finish making lunch, and then I am going to jump ship and drown myself in the ocean.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen—she said she wouldn’t tell. Nami might be catching onto something though. She was hinting that she thought you were the one helping me with the curse, and it’s honestly not hard to figure out since we were at sea for over a week with only four living men onboard and a reindeer.” Sanji seemed to sink even further into mortification at the suggestion that his sweet Nami-san was also beginning to suspect them of whatever it was they were doing.

“Speaking of the curse, I happened to acquire some useful information from the town library,” Robin told them. “It seems that since this is the next island after Loa, the Curse of 100 Kisses is well-known due to the pirates who have come here in search of male companionship over the years. There was a fair amount of research recorded in the old archives that complied facts and speculations about the nature of the curse.”

“What kind of information did you find?” Zoro asked since Sanji was still busy stewing in his own embarrassment.

“For one thing, my theory appears to have been correct regarding the early transference of the curse. A man who had previously been afflicted wrote about how he had picked up the curse from someone who was passed-out drunk at the time. It seems that Amara’s curse does not take too kindly to people who take advantage of others.”

“Can we at least agree that _I_ wasn’t taking advantage of the cook?” Zoro asked, feeling guilty in spite of himself.

“After last night, I’m less inclined to believe that your motives were wholly focused on saving my life, molesting-swordsman.”

“I swear to God, I will _kill_ you if you tell anyone that I molested you, shit-cook!”

“Yeah yeah, don’t be such a drama queen,” Sanji quoted mockingly.

Zoro glared at him and turned back to Robin, a vein throbbing in irritation at his temple. “Anything else? What about kisses that don’t count?”

“Ah, I did discover some interesting conditions about that. The theory is that a single kiss lasting for less than 100 minutes will only count as one. Multiple kisses with the same person will not be counted unless they are a minimum of 100 minutes apart, meaning that you could kiss as many times as you wanted until 100 minutes go by and the next kiss registers.”

“Okay, so everything after the first one last night would be within that time-frame…which means, including this morning, we’re still at eighteen, curly.”

Sanji’s face flushed again, but he ignored Zoro’s wanton disclosure and listened intently as Robin continued with an amused smile on her face. “I also read about a man who decided to collect volunteers—he was able to kiss multiple people in succession and still have the curse take each kiss into account regardless of the timeframe.”

“So in other words, it’s faster to end the curse by kissing as many people as possible rather than the same person 100 times?” Sanji clarified.

“It seems that way, but there’s no time limit for completing all 100 kisses. As long as you never let 100 hours go by without kissing a man, the cursed person won’t die a slow and painful death,” Robin reminded them with another sly smile.

“That isn’t so bad. We should be able to do that.”

“We?” Sanji asked him, not even noticing that Robin was quietly excusing herself from the room.

“Well, yeah. You’re still gonna help me with the 100 kisses, aren’t you?”

“I can, but don’t you want to finish them as quickly as possible so that we can get back to our journey without worrying about your health?”

“I’ve been doing alright so far.”

“But what if something happens, and I can’t get to you in time? What if you get separated from the crew or you fall down a mine shaft and get trapped underground for a week? You’ll die—regardless of how much will to live you have, idiot-swordsman. Your best bet is to just run around this big town kissing every man in sight—pretend you just won a load of money or something. You could pass the curse off to someone before we set sail. The log pose is gonna take a while to reset anyway.”

The cook had turned his back to Zoro and was meticulously chopping and slicing ingredients for lunch. He didn’t look up as the swordsman came towards him, standing so close that the blond could feel his breath tickling the back of his neck. “Like Robin said, there’s no rush.” He gripped the back of Sanji’s apron and pulled the other man against him, dropping a kiss on his collarbone where a faint love-bite was partially visible beneath the cook’s dress shirt—he had put it back on after breakfast so that Zoro could have his own shirt back, covering the wine stain with his buttoned up jacket. 

“I thought I told you to give me some space,” Sanji reminded him quietly, hands shaking slightly as he held the kitchen knife carefully away from their bodies.

“Did you mean it?” Zoro murmured against him.

“Yes.”

He kissed the side of the cook’s throat, running his tongue over the skin under his lips. “Do you _still_ mean it?”

Sanji sighed, carefully setting the knife down on the cutting board. He let Zoro turn him around so they were facing each other. “I have conflicting feelings on the matter,” he admitted as Zoro trailed his fingers along the sides of his neck, carefully threading them into the cook's blond hair.

“You don’t _seem_ too conflicted,” the swordsman commented when Sanji’s lips parted in anticipation. They kissed slowly, barely touching except for Zoro’s hands in his hair and the place where their lips met. “Look at the clock,” he said as they pulled apart. “It’s eleven-thirty.”

“I didn’t know you could read analogue, marimo.”

Zoro ignored his jibe. “At 1:10 we can kiss again. That’s 100 minutes from now, so it’ll count as our twentieth kiss.”

“Your math skills are on par with a first grader's. Congratulations, you get a gold star.”

“I’m being serious here, Cook,” Zoro snapped in frustration. Sanji clearly wanted to kiss him—was so obviously attracted to him—but it seemed that he was still uncomfortable with Zoro’s advances. “I don’t want to convince you to do anything you don’t want to, but I also don’t want to kiss anyone _but_ you. If you let me be a selfish bastard and take my time with this curse then I can promise that we don’t have to change what we’ve been doing up until now. If you want, we can just kiss like we used to whenever you brought me snacks before my workout—quick and businesslike. That’ll speed things up. 100 will be over in no time.”

Sanji watched him intently as he spoke, frowning when Zoro pulled his hands away to give him some space. His frown deepened when Zoro proposed “quick and businesslike” kisses, but he continued scrutinizing the swordsman’s demeanor in silence. After a long pause, the cook seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, breaking into a cocky smile.

“You really like me, huh?”

Zoro blinked, not expecting this reaction from the blond at all. “Wha—what?”

“I mean, as more than nakama. Last night you said that it was something you’d always wanted with me, and I’m pretty sure you alluded to having had wet dreams about me when you said that you half-expected the whole night to have been one.”

“That was spoken in confidence during my post-orgasm ecstasy, and I will not confirm or deny that it was true,” he stated instantly.

“How long?” Sanji asked. Zoro didn’t need any clarification to know what he was asking. He was glad that the cook wasn’t attempting to pry into the depth of his feelings quite yet and, instead, simply wanted to know when Zoro had started caring about him as more than nakama.

“I’m not exactly sure—sometime after Alabasta but before Thriller Bark you just…grew on me.”

Sanji nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t seem willing to voice his own feelings, but Zoro didn’t mind. He knew that it might take some time for the cook to begin understanding them himself—if they even _were_ romantically inclined rather than purely physical. The swordsman would wait for him to figure it out, no matter how long it took.    

“Thanks for being honest. I’m gonna make everyone lunch now. See you at 1:10, marimo—don’t get lost on your way here and try to use that as an excuse for being late,” Sanji told him, turning back to his preparation.

Zoro knew that he would wait for that annoying bastard if it took a lifetime.


	8. The Way You Make Me Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains a reference to rape/non-consensual sex. I understand that this is a serious issue, so please read at your discretion and keep in mind that consent is ALWAYS necessary.
> 
> Chapter song: "The Way You Make Me Feel" by Michael Jackson

A new routine started from then on where Sanji and Zoro tried to fit in as many kisses as the curse would allow. A maximum of about 15 were able to count towards the 100 per day, but after factoring in sleeping, eating, and general issues with the logistics of meeting privately, they were only able to squeeze in an average of 5 kisses from morning to night with 10 or more on a particularly productive day. The benefit of this routine for Zoro (besides the obvious) was that he really only felt the effects of the curse in the mornings after it had been draining his energy in his sleep. Otherwise, Sanji’s periodic pick-me-ups kept his physical condition relatively stable throughout the day.

They had reached 35 kisses within the next three days, and Sanji was beginning to become restless. Most of their kisses were just as quick and business-like as Zoro had promised—the swordsman never pressured him to deepen the kisses or touched him in any way that indicated a sexual advance—but a few of their encounters had happened in more isolated locations, like the crow’s nest or the store rooms below deck, and Sanji had been tempted to put more passion into the kisses.

So far, he’d been able to control himself and go about the situation as usual, but it was becoming harder and harder the longer he was abstaining from exploring his newfound lust for the green-haired man. He didn’t know what it all meant. It was extremely confusing for the cook, especially with the way Zoro had taken to treating him when they were alone. The two of them would always be at odds, fighting like cats and dogs and engaging in all sorts of banter that would alternate between playful and mean (oftentimes both) depending on their mood, but when they were alone, Zoro always showed Sanji a milder side of himself that could even be called tender at times.

It was damn confusing. The cook simply didn’t know what to feel when they were together, because he sometimes genuinely enjoyed the swordsman’s company, while at other times the man infuriated him to no end. It had become harder and harder to decipher the difference between the two ever since Zoro’s almost-confession had blurred the line. Now that Sanji knew his crewmate didn’t actually hate him, the insults were becoming dulled by the knowledge that Zoro cared about him with an undisclosed degree of seriousness.

Sanji was losing his mind thinking about it. He wanted Zoro. He just didn’t know to what extent he wanted him, and being a hopeless romantic himself, the cook couldn’t bear the risk of getting the swordsman’s hopes up only to later decide that he couldn’t reciprocate whatever Zoro may feel. He knew that Zoro had told him it was okay to be unsure—that anything he decided would be fine as long as they could still function as crewmates—but Sanji didn’t want to ever put somebody through that kind of torture.

He imagined a situation in which his beautiful Nami-san agreed to let Sanji take her to bed (although, as a gentleman, he didn’t allow himself to go so far as to picture her in any compromising situation) only to dismiss him after some time because she wasn’t as interested in him as he was of her. Just thinking about it made him cringe—if he ever succeeded in gaining the affections of their lovely navigator, it would surely break his heart to see her reject him after spending such intimate nights together. 

He wondered if the stoic swordsman could have his heart broken in a similar manner, and that possibility, however slight, made Sanji apprehensive about getting closer to the other man. He didn’t want to disappoint Zoro if he cared about the cook the way that Sanji knew he would care about Nami in a similar situation…

But he really, _really_ wanted to touch Zoro like that again.   

As if on cue, the swordsman dropped onto the deck, shirtless and dripping with sweat from his workout. He was wearing a dangerously low-riding pair of black pants and chugging a bottle of water as he strolled passed the cook towards the ship’s railing—it was making Sanji thirsty just watching him, and not because of the water.

“That goddamned marimo bastard! Torturing me like this!” he muttered under his breath.

“You say something, shit-cook?” he asked, settling down a few feet from Sanji, presumably to sleep.

“Ugh, are you really gonna nap covered in sweat? Take a shower like a normal human being, filthy-marimo!”

“I’m tired, alright? What are you, my mother?”

“Do I look like I have your freakish genetic mutation, moss-for-brains?” he asked aggressively.

“Jeez, who pissed in your cereal this morning? Why are you picking a fight all of a sudden?”

Sanji just stared at him, noting the delicious shape of his broad shoulders and toned stomach as he shifted to rest his hands behind his head. He covered for his pause by pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as casually as he could. “I fucking hate you, you know that?”

Zoro looked up at him in confusion, lifting an eyebrow in a mild scowl. “Well _excuse_ me, princess,” he scoffed dismissively, closing his eyes and ignoring Sanji completely.

The blond’s eyes followed the trail of a single drop of sweat as it painted a track over Zoro’s collarbone and down the cut of his abdomen. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. “Oi. Get up for a minute, marimo.”

One eye cracked open as Zoro said, “I just told you I was tired. I’m not gonna—”

“Just get up and come with me,” Sanji snapped, walking briskly towards the galley without turning to see if the swordsman was going to follow. If he didn’t…well, then Sanji would take that as a sign and leave it alone. He eventually heard Zoro slowly getting to his feet, grumbling about naps and curly eyebrows as he reluctantly followed Sanji into the kitchen.

The cook waited for him to come inside, closing the door behind them and locking it. Zoro’s eyes darted to the door when he heard the click, but he remained silent while Sanji finished the last of his cigarette and tossed the butt in an ashtray.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked mockingly since the blond wasn’t saying or doing anything other than looking at him carefully from top to bottom.

“Will you hate me?” Sanji asked suddenly.

“Huh? You’re the one who just said you hated me, idiot-cook. What are you even talking about?”

“You said that you wanted to be selfish and take your time with the curse—and with me.”

Zoro regarded him thoughtfully, unsure where the conversation was going. “Yeah. You got a problem with that all of a sudden?”

“Maybe.”

“What the hell? Stop being so cryptic!” Zoro snapped in frustration. “If you want to stop then we’ll stop. I can find other ways to—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sanji said instantly. “I want to be a selfish bastard, too. I’m asking you if you’ll hate me for it.”

“Are you feeling alright, Cook? You’re barely making sense,” Zoro told him with a hint of concern. He seemed to have caught onto the blond’s distress and had switched to speaking softly, as though he were afraid of provoking him into some sort of emotional outburst. That open concern broke down what little control Sanji had left, and he lunged forwards, knocking the swordsman into the galley wall.

Zoro just looked at him, calmly taking in every inch of the cook’s wildness—he had pinned him bodily against the wood, fingers gripping at tanned shoulders that were still slick with sweat. Sanji’s heart was racing, confliction raging in his sea-blue eye. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me, Zoro. I’m sorry,” he said shakily, mouth crashing down on the swordsman’s in a fit of desperation.

Arms went around him, holding him tightly as their tongues battled. Zoro gasped as the cook grinded his erection against the larger man’s thigh—it looked painful, trapped in the restricting fabric of his tight dress pants. When Sanji paused in his thrusts, the swordsman gripped him by the upper arms and quickly reversed their positions. He yanked Sanji’s shirt out of his waistband and unbuckled the belt with rough, unpracticed movements. The cook whined in anticipation, not even bothering to hold in what he usually would have considered an embarrassing noise. All reason seemed to have left him for the moment, and Zoro wasn’t about to leave the blond unsatisfied when he was so obviously desperate for release.

He slipped Sanji’s pants and boxers down in one motion, letting them pool around his ankles as he knelt and took the swollen cock into his mouth. The cook bucked into him unconsciously and tossed his head back until it thumped against the galley wall, panting with unrestrained need. He fisted Zoro’s hair with one hand, following the movement of his head as he started sliding his mouth from tip to base. Sanji cried out when the swordsman deep-throated him, humming at the arousing sound of the cook’s voice, and his cock twitched in response to the gentle vibrations along his shaft. Zoro sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the tip to taste the leaking pre-come.

He only had to pump twice before Sanji came spectacularly in the back of his throat, moaning loudly until the sound abruptly turned into a sort of choked-off sob. The cook’s knees gave out, and he sank to the floor in front of the swordsman like a marionette with its strings cut. A single tear escaped from his visible eye, leaving a glistening track down his cheek.

“Hey, are you alright? Did something happen?” Zoro asked soothingly, reaching out to wipe the moisture from Sanji’s face. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the cook cry, so this reaction was seriously concerning.

“Did something _happen?”_ Sanji repeated incredulously. _“You_ happened!”

“Me?! What the hell did _I_ do?”

“Me!”

“ _What?”_ Zoro replied uncomprehendingly. “That’s it, I’m getting Chopper.” He made to leave the galley and search for the little doctor, but Sanji grabbed the hem of his pants to prevent him from getting any farther.

“I’m fine, really! Don’t go—I don’t need to see Chopper.”

“Then tell me what the hell is going on, Cook.”

Sanji sighed, crossing his legs as Zoro joined him on the floor and made himself comfortable as well. He didn’t even know where to start, but the post-orgasm bliss that he felt reminded him to angrily kick Zoro’s side.

“Ow! What the hell, shit-cook?!”

“Why did you have to blow me like that?!” he snapped. “I didn’t ask you in here for…for… _that!_ ”

Zoro just stared at him, dumbstruck. “Let me get this straight. You’re mad…because I gave you a blowjob?” he asked with an amused smirk. “In case you didn’t notice, you were about to burst out of those tight pants of yours. Don’t blame a guy for doing another man a favor.”

“I don’t want favors from you, idiot! Don’t talk like you’re my damn whore or something!”

The swordsman’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Sanji’s choice of words. “Would you make those kinds of assumptions about a _woman_ who chose to give you some release?” The cook didn’t answer, but it was clear by the grimace on his face how he felt about such degrading language with respect to a lady. “Then don’t act like I’m any fucking different! I don’t understand what’s going on with you. Just _talk_ to me,” Zoro pleaded.

Sanji had no choice but to come clean about his apprehension. He didn’t want to have to admit it, but his night with the swordsman had affected him deeply. He couldn’t get it out of his head—couldn’t get _Zoro_ out of his head.

“I may…possibly…be sort of freaking out about what’s happening between us,” he confessed quietly.

Zoro sighed, shifting across the floorboards to sit by Sanji’s side and lean his back against the wall. “You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that. How about starting with why? Is it because I’m a guy or just because it’s me?” he asked resignedly.

“Neither. I think it’s because you’re acting…” _like you’re in love with me or something_ , he thought, “like you’d be hurt if it turns out I’m just using you to explore this new side of me.”

He braced himself for an angry retort for implying that the prideful swordsman could be hurt by Sanji, so he was not expecting the amused chuckle that he received instead. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?” Zoro became instantly serious, holding the blond’s gaze with deliberate sternness when the cook turned to look at him in surprise. “I’m a grown man, Sanji, and a pirate to boot. If you don’t want me to handle your body like it’s made of glass, then don’t treat me like my heart is.” 

Sanji’s mind blanched for a moment until he recalled his own words, spoken through a haze of lust, asking Zoro if he was going to fuck him like he was made of glass. There had also been a slew of embarrassing demands for him to go harder during the actual fucking. “Shit, I did say that...”

“I don’t want you to be concerned about my feelings, moron. Worry about your own—you’re a damn mess.”

“A hot mess though, right?” Sanji asked him hopefully. Zoro regarded him carefully, trailing his eyes up Sanji’s torso where they lingered at the cook’s open collar and exposed chest before settling on his eyebrow.

“Are you trying to hypnotize me, curly?”

“If I could, you’d be drowning yourself in the ocean for that comment, asshole!”

“True. I suppose you wouldn’t be _you_ if you weren’t a totally neurotic, overdramatic worrywart, so I won’t laugh at you for crying over something so dumb.”

“I WASN’T CRYING,” Sanji insisted vehemently.

“I’m definitely gonna have to get Chopper since you’ve clearly caught Usopp’s I’ll-die-if-I-don’t-use-a-super-obvious-lie disease.”

“Don’t make fun of me, bastard!”

Sanji’s leg swung towards Zoro’s head, but the swordsman was almost always expecting this kind of reaction from the temperamental blond and was able to easily intercept the blow. He caught the cook by the ankle, turning towards him in one fluid movement and hooking the blond’s knee over his shoulder—this put them in a particularly lewd position with Sanji’s legs spread wide and his shirt riding up as he tipped backwards to catch himself. Judging by his furious blush, he seemed to have forgotten that he was still naked from the waist down and was not in the best position to maneuver in a fight. Zoro let his eyes wander shamelessly, causing the blond to blush even harder and squirm beneath his intense gaze. 

“I wonder…with your impressive stamina, are you really satisfied with that quick blowjob, love-cook?” Zoro asked him, his voice transitioning easily into a lustful baritone. Just like the last time, his suggestive tone sent shivers straight to Sanji’s groin and rekindled his responsive libido. The swordsman was still a little sweaty, looming over him in all his muscled glory, skin glistening as he drank in Sanji’s flushed appearance with unmistakable reverence. Seeing Zoro look at him like that—like he was as precious as the swordsman's prized possession, his white katana, Wado Ichimonji—made Sanji’s blood boil and his heart sing.

His pulse began racing, muscles twitching in anticipation as Zoro ran his hands over the cook’s thighs and licked his lips provocatively. It was clear that Sanji’s little freak-out had not caused the swordsman’s desire to fade, and he could feel the other man’s growing erection against the inside of his raised leg. When the swordsman turned and placed his lips on that thigh, nipping the sensitive skin with his teeth, the blond decided that he could take no more.

“Fuck it,” he growled, savagely ripping the tie from his throat and hastily undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. Zoro helped him pull the obstructing fabric off of his shoulders, baring his slender chest already slicked with sweat.

He gently unhooked his leg from the swordsman’s shoulder only to have his whole body dragged onto Zoro’s lap as the man lifted him by the waist and pulled them closer together. Sanji’s legs automatically wrapped around the tanned waist as if they'd memorized this response as part of a long-established routine. They kissed passionately, grinding their hips in an animalistic fashion that quickly turned the embrace into a power struggle. Sanji’s ass rubbed against the bulge in Zoro’s pants while his cock, already half-hard again and twitching, was trapped between their stomachs in a blessedly stimulating friction.     

They moaned into one another, feeling every inch of the other’s body with Sanji’s hands settling in Zoro’s soft hair and Zoro’s hands moving to knead the blond’s toned ass with sudden enthusiasm. “Fuck, Sanji,” he growled, sucking at the skin beneath the cook’s ear. “Do you have any idea how hard you make me?”

The question abruptly changed the dynamic of the situation because Sanji was finally hearing the sort of dirty-talk that made him hot in all the right places. The swordsman had been relatively reserved and considerate when they’d had sex in the hotel, but now it seemed like he was letting his baser impulses take over.

“Mmmm—yeah,” Sanji hummed in lame response. He could obviously feel how hard Zoro was, but it was such a turn-on to hear him say it that the blond found his inhibitions slowly fading away as they were replaced by similar impulses. “Stand up and get your pants off so I can repay you for helping me earlier,” he ordered, pushing himself out of Zoro’s lap and rising above him. The swordsman’s eyes raked over Sanji’s naked form as he quickly followed suit and tugged the rest of his clothes off.

While Zoro took care of his pants, Sanji ran to the cupboard to retrieve a bottle of olive oil and place it on the kitchen table. He beckoned for the other man to come to him, and they were crashing into said table within the next breath. When Zoro tried to lift him and lay him on his back, the cook lightly shoved him away with a shake of his head. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his back to the swordsman and placed his forearms on the tabletop, giving him a fantastic view of the blond’s ass.

“Take me from behind, Zoro.”

He could actually hear the other man swallow in surprise. “Right here? In the kitchen?” he asked incredulously, as if they were discussing the defiling of a sacred site (which they sort of were in Sanji’s mind, but he was too horny to care and knew that he could disinfect anything they touched). “We can move somewhere more comfortable if you want to lie down,” he suggested.

Sanji shot him a lecherous grin from his provocative position, practically purring the words, “Don’t you want to bend me over this table and fuck me like I’m _your_ whore?”

Zoro’s face paled, cock twitching as the blond swung his hips invitingly. “Sanji, you’re not—I mean, I don’t want you to…uh…”

“Hmm?” the cook pressed, because the swordsman’s breath sounded hitched, his train of thought rapidly derailing when the blond reached back and spread his own ass cheeks. Sanji had no idea where this behaviour was coming from—he could barely think straight with his body so overcome with lust and his mind filled with regret for having waited so long to try this with a man. Contrary to what his perverted tendencies around women might suggest, Sanji was as much of a gentleman in bed as he was when he was wooing them. He rarely used dirty-talk because it went against something fundamental in his being that kept him from disrespecting a lady even in the heat of passion.

Sanji knew that he and Zoro respected one another, yet they could still fight and sling hateful insults without worrying that the other would be hurt. They were rough and unrelenting, kicking and swearing with vigor while still maintaining a relationship that was simple and honest. They could just be themselves knowing that the other would ultimately accept them as nakama—it was almost effortless to translate that into the bedroom—or kitchen in this case. Sanji knew that Zoro didn’t look down on him or think of him in such crude terms, so he could willingly give the swordsman control over his body.

He _trusted_ Zoro. In fact, Sanji was pretty sure he was going to enjoy it immensely if the other man played along. “I said some mean things to you earlier, marimo. Don’t you want to teach me a lesson?”

That did it. Zoro was on him so quickly that Sanji felt a cool wind pass over his skin with the movement. Hands gripped his waist with bruising strength, shoving him roughly against the table. Thankfully, there was a tablecloth thrown over the wooden surface that protected the cook from any real damage and could easily be disposed of before any meals were served. The blond gripped the far edge of the table as Zoro stretched out over him, cock rubbing against the crook of his ass as he leaned down to whisper in the cook’s ear.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut, Sanji. What happened to the virginal shyness that had you blushing when you talked about anal and hiding your face in embarrassment when you moaned too loudly, huh?” He licked the blond’s earlobe, making him shudder and moan in exactly the same way as what he was referring to. “I can’t see your face like this—you’ll have to keep making those sounds so I know that you like it.”

The cook felt a hand at the back of his neck, pushing his face towards the tabletop so that he was truly bent over top of it. He heard the sound of a bottle lid being unscrewed with quick, one-handed motions and knew that Zoro had opened the olive oil. A few seconds later, he flinched in surprise when a stream of viscous liquid was poured over his back and began dripping down his spine.

“Don’t waste it!” he said immediately, but Zoro didn’t seem to think it was a waste. He smeared his hands through the oil, slicking up Sanji’s back and running wet fingers over the curves of his ass with appreciative noises rumbling in the back of his throat.

He teased a finger around Sanji’s entrance, massaging the ring of muscle and rubbing his palm over the skin leading to the blond’s sac. He cupped his balls and rolled them carefully, occasionally squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to make the cook squirm as heat began to coil in his gut and fill his neglected cock. There was a short pause when Zoro let go of Sanji’s neck to grip him behind one knee—he bent it to rest on the table, spreading the cook’s legs to open him up for preparation, and an oily finger slipped passed the ring of muscle in one thrust. Sanji arched his back the minute it touched his prostate and was immediately slammed into the table again. Zoro gripped his hair with a painful tug that made the blond hiss in pleasure.

“Did I _say_ that you could get up?” he asked dangerously.

A needy whine slipped out of the cook’s mouth before he could contain it—he was so hard that he could feel his erection touching the underside of the table. Needless to say, Sanji was definitely enjoying the whole submissive thing. He’d never gotten the chance to play the role with a lady since most of the women he’d bedded had either been more interested in letting him do all the work or had preferred to be dominated themselves; admittedly, he didn’t think he would ever be able to satisfy that kind of women because it simply wasn’t in his nature to subjugate a female.

Zoro, on the other hand, was going to beg for mercy when Sanji turned the tables on him.

“Do you want me to put another finger in, Cook?” he asked teasingly because the slow thrusts were clearly beginning to strain the limits of Sanji’s patience—he was quivering all over, desperate to feel something more inside him but knowing better than to say something before he was asked.

“Yes! Please, Zoro. I want more,” he told him instantly, shoving his pride and embarrassment aside. The blond was immediately rewarded for his honesty as another finger was added and the delicious pressure increased.

“Good boy,” Zoro commended him. “You even remembered to use your table manners,” he joked smugly with an accompanying thrust against the cook’s prostrate, making him cry out. Sanji reached back, hoping to touch his own aching cock, and received a painful smack on the ass for his trouble—he yelped in surprise and gripped the edge of the table again. “Don’t get greedy now. _I’ll_ decide when you feel it there. I don’t want to see your hands leave this table again, do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” Sanji replied, panting with the effort of holding his head down—he wanted to throw it back and scream. Again, he was rewarded for complying with Zoro’s will, and the head of the swordsman’s cock replaced his fingers at the cook’s entrance.

“Don’t move a muscle,” he warned, freezing Sanji in place. The blond was heaving now, falling to pieces with the task of holding still as Zoro slowly pushed his way into the cook’s eager hole. It took everything he had not to immediately clench around the other man’s length—he knew that he would likely receive another slap, which was actually incredibly tempting. The temptation won out, and he flexed around the warm intrusion.

Fingers threaded farther into his hair, anchoring him in place with a painful grip as Zoro suddenly thrust his full length deep into the cook’s ass. It was painful in the best way, causing Sanji to shudder and clench his teeth as waves of pain and pleasure rocked him. _Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move_ , he chanted internally, but it was no use when the shudders continued to shake his entire frame. His body simply wouldn’t obey him, and consequently, wouldn’t obey Zoro.

“You never were very good at listening, Cook. I’ll forgive you this once if you beg me to fuck you like you really are my whore.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, I want you to! Please fuck me—I need it. I want you, Zoro. _Please!_ ”

It was like a completely different person was using Sanji’s mouth to speak. He barely registered the words he was saying—all he knew was that he’d never been so turned on in his life. He could have cried tears of joy when the swordsman finally obliged, snapping his hips forward and slamming into the blond with sudden enthusiasm. They quickly found a merciless pace with Zoro pounding him relentlessly and Sanji meeting each thrust as best he could from his awkward position.

Oiled hands gripped the cook wherever they could reach, sliding and kneading flesh, scraping long glorious trails down his back, sides, and chest. Zoro was panting just as heavily as he was, the two of them lost in manic bliss. The slapping of skin on skin seemed to fill the entire room, adding to the perverted symphony of Sanji’s lewd cries and Zoro’s satisfied grunts. The cook felt his orgasm building in a sudden rush of white-hot fire, but the swordsman reached around and gripped his throbbing cock at the base, constricting the blood flow to delay his release a little bit longer.

“ _Fuck,_ I…I need to—p-please...make me come,” he begged without having to be asked. Zoro began pumping his hand around Sanji’s member, growling deep in his throat as he found his own release inside the blond, who came at the same time with long, violent streams under the table.

A period of stillness and loud panting ensued while the pair came down from their highs and tried to catch their breath. Sanji was trembling beneath Zoro’s warm torso and blinking as his vision returned to him—he’d seen nothing but black for a moment during his orgasm, and his legs felt paradoxically stiff and boneless at the same time. He moved his knee off of the table, moaning at the feeling of Zoro’s still pulsing cock inside his ass as he shifted and collapsed onto the tabletop in total exhaustion.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, still disoriented as the waves of pleasure slowly diminished and left him in want of more. “Zoro?”

“Mmm?” the other man mumbled, apparently prepared to fall asleep as they were with his dick still inside.

“Pull out before I kick you in the head,” the blond told him half-heartedly.

The swordsman did as he was told, never doubting that the flexible blond could manage it even in this position. He slid onto the table, dragging Sanji towards him in the same motion so that he could hold the cook firmly against his chest and rub circles into the small of his back. Sanji let out a contented sigh and had almost relaxed into Zoro’s gentle touch when his mind finally caught up to what their bodies had just done.

“Well that was…unexpected,” he said, ducking his head to hide the burning embarrassment and flood of shame that immediately washed over him. “God, I have no idea what came over me—I don’t think I can ever look you in the eye again.”

“ _You_ have no idea?” Zoro asked weakly, seeming mortified by his own behaviour. “I called you a slut.”

"I think it’s embarrassingly obvious that I’m apparently into that, so don’t feel too bad,” he said reassuringly.

“You don’t understand. I…I have a bit of a confession to make.”

“Let me guess, you’re a complete sadist who enjoys dominating lean blonds?”

There was a significant pause before he said, “The complete opposite actually…I’m usually the one who bottoms.”

Sanji propped himself up on an elbow to stare at him in surprise. “You’re kidding?! I guess the stereotypes really aren’t much to go on.” His good humour evaporated when he registered the truly shell-shocked look on the swordsman’s face. “Oi, are you alright?”

“Don’t ask _me!”_ Zoro exploded, holding Sanji even tighter than before. “Tell me the truth. Did I hurt you?” he added quietly. There were actual tremors running through his body as if he were cold.

“I’m fine. I don’t think it hurts any more than it should considering how rough we—” He broke off again at the sound of Zoro’s obvious relief, so pronounced that it was almost a sob.

“Thank God...” He fell into silence, running a light hand through the excess oil on Sanji’s back while still holding him as if the cook were about to crumble apart in his arms.

“You seem a little traumatised,” he remarked with concern.

Zoro stilled for a moment before resuming his slow caress. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve always been on the receiving end of rough sex—that’s pretty much all you get as a wanted pirate looking for a quick fuck, and sometimes it can get out of control.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Sanji pressed, feeling unsettled by the forced nonchalance in the other man’s tone.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. I was just a little worried about you because I’ve never done that kind of thing before, and you’re still new at receiving,” he explained evasively.

Sanji growled, shoving off of Zoro’s chest and hurrying to snatch up his pants. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ignore a comment like that, but he also didn’t want to start a potential fight in his very oily birthday suit. “You’re saying some messed up shit like you were raped or something.”

He watched the swordsman’s face carefully, noting how his expression darkened. “Don’t make bullshit assumptions like that—as if any common pirate could take advantage of me,” he snapped.

“Well, you were obviously hurt by somebody if you were that concerned about hurting me, and it takes a lot of force to hurt Roronoa Zoro.” He threw the swordsman his pants and let his own expression soften. “Tell me what happened.”

“It wasn’t like what you're suggesting. I just remembered a particularly uncomfortable situation where it got a little too rough—I hadn’t been expecting the other guy to restrain my arms, and you know how anxious I am when I can’t get to my swords.”

Sanji listened with quietly brewing anger, lighting a cigarette from his discarded jacket’s pocket before asking, “Did you tell him to stop?”

Zoro shrugged uncomfortably, suddenly very focused on retrieving his scattered clothing. “I did, but we were right in the middle of it and he thought it would be fun to gag me with my own bandana.”

Sanji froze, disgust pooling in his gut as he unconsciously imagined the scenario. He didn’t want to think about the reality of what it implied—wouldn’t let himself use the word aloud again to describe something so horrible. Zoro obviously hadn’t wanted whatever that person’s idea of sex had led to, but Sanji wouldn’t insist that it had been rape because he knew that Zoro would be angry. The idiot-swordsman had clearly repressed the memory until now, playing it off as rough sex getting “out of control.”

He wanted to throw up, but he settled for throwing the kitchen table instead—it sailed across the room and crashed into the counter, luckily in one piece, causing Zoro to look at him in astonishment. Sanji crossed the gap between them in three long strides, shoving the swordsman into the galley wall in a much angrier fashion than he had when they'd first come in.

“You stupid motherfucker.”

He kissed the other man aggressively, pouring all of his loathing for the nameless bastard who’d touched him into the action. Sanji’s hands trembled, and his heart ached with misplaced guilt—he couldn’t help but think that if he’d only noticed Zoro’s feelings for him sooner then _he_ could have been the one who tied him up, instead of some fucking pirate scumbag who didn’t know the meaning of the word consent. The cook pulled back to glare at Zoro’s flushed and bemused face, gripping the front of his shirt and slamming their foreheads together.

“Don’t ever let that kind of shit slide—not _ever_. Even if you’re men looking for a quick fuck, it’s still all kinds of wrong. You’d better rip bastards like that a new fucking hole, you hear me?”

The swordsman just stared at him with wide eyes. Finally, he nodded and let out a shaky breath, reaching up to return Sanji’s embrace. They stood like that for another minute, just finding comfort in each other’s arms, before the cook noticed the clock.

“It’s almost time for you to relieve Robin-chan for night-watch. Do you mind if I join you?” he asked on impulse. After everything that had just happened, he didn’t want to leave Zoro sitting in the crow’s nest by himself.

“Sure. If you really don’t mind staying up, I bet we can get to 40 if we kiss every 100 minutes.”

Sanji nodded, certain that such a pitifully slow pace was no longer going to be enough.


	9. Don't You Want Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Don't You Want Me" by The Human League

He couldn’t deny it anymore. The shitty-swordsman had inexplicably captured the womanizing cook’s interest. It would’ve been easy to blame it on his eager libido or open-mindedness, but Sanji knew that the protective instincts and jealousy he’d felt after hearing Zoro’s confession hinted at a deeper connection. The cook was torn between admitting that he wanted to continue being intimate with the other man and hiding from his feelings like the complete and utter coward he was.

After their vigorous tryst in the galley, Zoro had relaxed his business-like approach to their scheduled kisses, seeming to understand that the blond felt an attraction to him that warranted a more informal routine. Sanji was content to let the swordsman think that was all it was, at least for now, since he still couldn’t understand his changing feelings nor could he shake off the nagging guilt that he was taking advantage of Zoro’s rather obvious affection for him.

The fact that it was obvious did not escape the notice of their more perceptive nakama. Robin seemed to be quite close to Zoro since she had already been privy to the details of the arrangement between the swordsman and cook. She likely knew, perhaps even better than Zoro himself, the extent of his feelings for the cook and often made sly comments about the nature of their relationship, which always caused one or both of them to flush in embarrassment and hastily excuse themselves from the room. This did not help their attempts at subtly, and eventually everyone in the crew seemed to be catching on.

“Can you pass me that bowl of rice, Sanji-kun?” Nami asked him sweetly. Her request required the cook to stand and lean across the dinner table in order to place the dish in his lovely angel’s arms, and it also happened to put him in a position that immediately caught the swordsman’s attention—he gave Sanji a pointed look that froze him in place, bringing a blush to his cheeks as Zoro smirked at the reminiscent way in which the blond was bending.

“Cook-san is quite flexible, isn’t he Swordsman-san?” Zoro nearly choked on the bubble of laughter that Robin’s remark triggered in him. “Oh, and I see we have a new tablecloth…” she added, causing Sanji’s knee to jerk reflexively and bang into the edge of the table. The noise drew attention to her words, and everyone looked at him and Zoro with varying degrees of understanding—Nami’s eyes lit up in glee, Franky and Brook weren’t even trying to hide their obnoxious giggling, and the trio of immature children (Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper) barely spared them a glance before resuming their hearty ingestion of Sanji’s food.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” Zoro whispered, leaning towards the still-frozen cook. He grabbed the blond’s hanging tie and pulled him into a kiss that even Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper stared at.

“Ohhh so that’s why Zoro still isn’t dead,” Luffy announced happily. It seemed that even he had registered the fact that their cursed swordsman hadn’t grown weaker during their earlier voyage. “Good job, Sanji!” he added with another excited grin. The cook just flopped back into his seat, red-faced and sputtering and unable to form any sort of reply, let alone an excuse.

“That’s number 48, Cook. We made good progress today,” Zoro told him conversationally, returning to his meal like it was nothing.

“Don’t just do that at the dinner table, you ape! Have some damn manners and—” His rebuke died at the sly look on the other man’s face, but Nami was the one who voiced what that smirk was expressing.

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Sanji-kun. Why don’t you have Franky build you and Zoro a proper bed so that you don’t have to—?”

“WHOOPS. LUFFY, YOU STILL LOOK HUNGRY. I’LL JUST GO MAKE YOU AN EXTRA HELPING—DON’T MIND ME,” he cut in instantly, dashing away from the table to drown his embarrassment in his cooking.

“Do you guys have to kiss in your sleep to keep up with the curse?” Luffy inquired offhandedly.

“I don’t think they get much sleep. Yohohohohohoho!”

“That’s a SUPER idea, Nami! It would be easier than trying to share bunks. How about it, Zoro-bro?”

Sanji’s ears were burning red as he listened to his crewmates’ calm acceptance of their cook and swordsman’s rather abrupt bond, but his heart faltered when he heard Zoro’s hushed reply to Franky’s question.

“Shut up, idiot! Don’t assume we want to sleep together like _that._ We’re just taking advantage of the curse—there’s nothing romantic about it. Curly-brow loves women.”

Sanji loved women. He couldn’t love a man because he only loved women. Sex and love were completely different, and he could only bring himself to be physically intimate with a man if there were no emotions involved—that’s what Zoro seemed to be implying. _Does he really believe that?_   Sanji wondered with a bitterness that surprised him. _Doesn’t he want me to return whatever feelings he has for me?_

Suddenly, Sanji felt apprehensive about his decision to goad Zoro into bending him over the table—he’d acted so shamelessly that it was no wonder the swordsman thought he was only interested in sex to alleviate his horniness. _Isn’t that exactly what I was after, though?_   the cook realized guiltily. He’d as much as told Zoro that his dilemma had to do with the lust he felt for the swordsman. Sanji had said that he wanted to be a selfish bastard, and it looked like he’d gotten his wish.

***

The cook avoided the swordsman for the rest of the night after his little spectacle at dinnertime. Zoro hadn’t exactly planned on putting the two of them on display like that, but Sanji had just looked so adorably flustered leaning across the table with a bowl of rice in one hand. His face had been so close to the swordsman’s, within perfect kissing distance, and his tie had been dangling— _begging_ to be grabbed.

Zoro shook his head. Damn it, he was losing his composure just thinking about it. It hadn’t been a very smart move, in retrospect, because Sanji had obviously not been ready for his crewmates to know about their newfound intimacy, and now he was punishing Zoro for the spontaneous action by withholding his revitalising kisses.

“Good morning, marimo. Waffles?”

Zoro blinked in surprise. He’d wandered into the galley, late for breakfast because he’d slept in to conserve his energy under the assumption that the cook would be withholding again today, and there was Sanji brandishing a plate of perfectly presented waffles with fruit, and whipped cream, and a _smile_.

“What are you doing?” he asked the blond, instantly suspicious.

“I made you something to eat since I knew you’d be tired. We haven’t kissed since yesterday at dinner,” Sanji explained casually.

“You didn’t have to do that. I should apologize for that last kiss—it wasn’t fair to do that to you in front of the crew without asking you first. I wasn’t thinking.”

The cook shoved the plate of waffles at him, glaring in disapproval. “These were supposed to be apology waffles, and you ruined it by apologizing to me first,” he huffed.

“I don’t know what you’re sorry for, Cook, but I’ll take your food even if they were I-hate-you waffles,” Zoro said happily.

“Well, now that’s what they are. Enjoy, bastard.”

“You can’t make something with love and infuse it with hate so easily. Mmm—thish ish good,” he said around a mouthful of golden-brown dough.  

“Who said that I made your shitty waffles with love? I thought I only loved women,” Sanji snapped. 

“So you heard me say that? It’s true though, isn’t it?” he asked, confused by the other man’s dark tone. Zoro didn’t know why the blond was upset, especially since he'd been trying to do damage control after putting them both on the spot and watching the cook nervously endure their ruthless nakama teasing him about their sex life.   

Sanji sighed, sinking into a chair across from Zoro and leaning his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands. “I think we should talk about whatever this is,” he explained while the other man continued devouring his breakfast. “I still feel like a total asshole for wanting it so badly.” His cheeks reddened behind his hands at the admission, but he looked up and managed a wry smile.

“I thought we cleared this up after you freaked out the last time. You don’t have to feel bad about any of it—we’re consenting adults, and I don’t care if you just want to fuck me when you’re horny. Good sex is good sex.”

Sanji glowered at him, a scowl twisting his still-flushed face and giving him the appearance that he was even angrier. “Tch. I never thought I’d see the day when Roronoa Zoro gave up so easily.”

“Excuse me?” the swordsman replied dangerously, eyes narrowed.

“You heard me. It didn’t take you long to slap a friends-with-benefits label on this. What happened to the sweet nothings you whispered in my ear? I’d swear you were trying to woo me, but now it’s back to business as usual.”

“I was under the impression that you were uncomfortable with my unrequited feelings, idiot-cook. I’m just trying to give you what you want, but I can’t help you if even _you_ don’t know what you want.”

“Fuck,” Sanji muttered, conceding for once. “You’re right. I’m a fucking mess—giving you mixed signals because I have mixed feelings. How the hell did this happen? Things used to be so simple.”

“Maybe for you,” Zoro snorted with a bitter smirk. “You think _you've_ got problems because you want to throw yourself at me and can barely understand why? Well, I’ve been holding back that kind of desperation for months, and it isn’t as easy after we actually started having sex. That’s why I kissed you at dinner without thinking—you’re a temptation.”

The cook looked at him in surprise, seeming awkward but pleased with Zoro’s honesty. He held the swordsman’s gaze for a long moment before relocating to the other side of the table so they were sitting side by side. “Okay,” he began nervously, “so what you’re saying is that I’m in the driver’s seat here, and you’re just going to go along with whatever _I_ want this to be?” he asked for confirmation.

“Exactly. I don’t want it to be weird, Sanji. Just do whatever feels right to you, and I’ll match your pace.”

“Okay,” he said again, blue eye flicking to the swordsman’s face contemplatively. The cook seemed to make up his mind, leaning in to press their mouths together. He slowly parted their lips, exploring Zoro with careful touches of his tongue and an unhurried thoroughness that made the swordsman shiver. He had never been kissed so tenderly before the blond, and it still blew his mind to think that _Sanji_ had given him his first real kiss. It was almost painful how happy it made him to realize it.

Zoro lifted his hands to the other man’s face, lightly brushing his fingers along the fine golden hairs on his jaw and running them through soft blond locks. Sanji hummed in satisfaction when the tips of those fingers dragged along his scalp, and he grabbed the swordsman’s sleeves to pull their chests together. The cook eventually broke the kiss with a small gasp to replenish his air, and Zoro let him lean back without complaint.

“Hmm…that was a nice change in pace,” the swordsman remarked, smiling at the blond’s flushed appearance. “You don’t look like you’re satisfied, though,” he added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Sanji kicked him in the leg and got up from the table to put some distance between them. “I’m perfectly content, thank you very much! It doesn’t always have to lead to us getting naked in the galley,” he said irritably.

“Why not?” Zoro asked good-naturedly.

The cook shifted in place, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck with another wry smile. “I only had the one extra tablecloth.”

“Then let’s go into town and buy some spare tablecloths.”

“Patience, marimo. I need to start lunch for everybody...but after that, I _have_ been meaning to stop by this big seafood restaurant in the town square, so I suppose we can also shop for tablecloths.”

“Great. It’s a date.”

Sanji flinched halfway through lighting a cigarette. “I wasn’t asking you out like that, moss-head,” he growled.

“ _Sure_ you weren’t. Aren't you implying that you’re gonna take me to dinner, Cook?”

“I didn’t—I just meant that _I’m_ going to the restaurant, but it’s not like I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t do—”

“Calm down, idiot. I’m just teasing. I can still come though, right?”

The cook spun around and began furiously riffling through kitchen cupboards, making no effort to keep the dishes from clanging and creating a horrible racket. Zoro barely heard his grumbled reply of “Fine,” and chose not to mention the red tinge that had spread to the blond’s ears.

***

After lunch, Zoro took a nap on the deck because heavy food often made him tired. He awoke later in the day, blinking sleep out of his eyes and vaguely wondering why the shit-cook hadn’t kicked him awake like usual. Sanji was lounging on the deck with the rest of the crew, all of them turning to smile at Zoro as he dragged himself into consciousness.

“Did you have a good rest, sleeping beauty?” Nami asked him sweetly. Her words, along with the highly out-of-character smile, set the swordsman immediately on edge.

“If I’m sleeping beauty then you must be the wicked witch,” he told her suspiciously.

“I believe the villain in Sleeping Beauty was an evil fairy who hadn’t been invited to the palace banquet,” Robin corrected him knowledgeably.

“You’re probably thinking of the witch from the Wizard of Oz,” Sanji added. “You’d feel right at home in Oz, marimo. There’s a field full of flowers there that puts people into an eternal slumber.”

For some reason, everyone laughed at that even heartier than what seemed necessary. Zoro’s frown deepened as he said, “Maybe I should go back to sleep. You guys are annoying.”

“Go ahead then—finish your photosynthesizing, mossy.”

“Maybe you should get _out_ of the sun, Cook. With your pasty complexion, I’ll be eating lobster with a lobster tonight.”

Sanji glared at him, ignoring the jibe in favor of avoiding an argument on the topic of their dinner plans. Zoro was slightly disappointed by this because he would’ve loved to tease the cook about it being a date. He knew that Sanji didn’t want to label it, though, so he kept himself in check. Luffy, on the other hand, was never deaf to the topic of food.

“You guys are gonna eat lobster tonight?! I want some—let me eat it, too!” he demanded, salivating at the thought.

“Don’t bother them, Luffy. It sounds like Sanji wants a night off from feeding you. Are you going to La Maison des Poissons, Sanji-kun? I noticed that it was a fairly popular seafood restaurant while I was in town and figured it was your kind of place,” Nami remarked with the tiniest of smirks.

“You know me so well, my sweet mellorine! I’ll be sure to visit the restaurant early enough to return in time to cook you a wonderful dinner, so look forward to the possibility of my new and improved skills!”

He spun over to take her hand, deliberately directing attention away from Zoro’s earlier comment, but Robin was too sharp to be diverted so easily. “Don’t be silly, Cook-san, we can fend for ourselves tonight. Have fun with Swordsman-san and be safe,” she told him with a brilliant grin. Sanji tensed but didn’t deny the fact that they were going together. His reaction wasn’t subtle enough to go unnoticed, which caused the women to giggle, Usopp and Franky to break into identical shit-eating grins, and Luffy and Chopper to beam happily at them both.

“Speaking of being safe...Oi, Chopper? You know that I’m clean, but have you checked curly-brow here to make sure he’s not carrying any—”

A black-clad leg swung towards the swordsman’s chest before he could finish the question, knocking the wind out of him as he slumped against the railing. Sanji stood calmly next to Zoro, lighting up a cigarette before marching off towards the galley and saying, “Somebody should water that damn garden—it looks a little wilted.”

“I could use a good plowing,” Zoro fired back, earning a loud “Yohohohohoho!” from Brook.

“Shut up, flowerbed.”

The cook left him with that new insult, which Zoro wouldn’t understand until later when he and Robin were shopping in town, and he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the store windows. “That shitty cook!” he exclaimed, turning to glare at the giggling archaeologist. “He put these in my hair while I was sleeping on deck, didn’t he?”

“Luffy and Usopp helped, and if I’m being honest, I may have contributed one or two.”

She sprouted an arm from Zoro’s shoulder, delicately plucking out one of the colorful flowers that had been carefully woven into his green hair. It really did look like a flowerbed—no wonder he’d been smelling something sweet all day.

“You let me walk around in town like this? I can’t believe you, Robin. You’re a shitty friend.”

She shrugged apologetically, though her amused smile was anything but. “I’m sorry, Zoro, but it just looked so cute on you.”

He growled, running his hands through his hair to dislodge the rest of the offending flora, and shot her another accusatory glare. “You owe me for this, demon-woman. Help me pick out something nice to wear tonight, and don’t say _one word_ about it to the cook,” he told her quickly. Part of the reason why he’d invited her on this sudden shopping trip was because he didn’t know the first thing about fine dining, so he at least wanted to wear something other than his usual attire. 

She tilted her head with a pleased smile, seeming impressed. “It would be my pleasure.”


	10. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen (aka. Sanji's song)

Sanji followed the waiter who was seating him at La Maison des Poisson. He was the first to get to the restaurant because the shitty swordsman had gone somewhere with Robin-chan and promised to meet him there afterward at seven o’clock. The cook took a seat at one of the booths, informing the waiter that he was expecting someone named Zoro, and ordered a glass of wine while he waited. It wouldn’t surprise him if the directionless idiot ended up getting lost and never showed, but Sanji was ten minutes early, so he was willing to wait around at least until the time they’d agreed.

He swirled the red liquid around in his glass, trying to locate the source of his sudden anxiety. Maybe it was because he was sitting there alone, facing the possibility that the moss-head wouldn’t be able to find his way and leave the cook looking like he’d been stood up, or maybe it was because Zoro _would_ show up—they were going to have dinner together in a fancy restaurant, and it had been Sanji’s idea. He refused to admit it to the other man, but he _had_ meant for the swordsman to join him when he’d mentioned going out for seafood.

_"Great. It’s a date."_

Zoro’s words kept repeating in his mind as he sat there nervously sipping wine. He’d even consciously worn his best suit for the occasion, but now he was starting to sweat in it with the prospect that he had actually agreed to go on a date with the idiot-swordsman. _We didn’t agree to it, though_ , he reassured himself. _It’s just dinner. No big deal._

He was still stressing over the situation—wondering if it would feel awkward and whether or not Zoro _did_ consider it a date—when his eyes caught the movement of someone approaching his table. A gentleman in a dark, well-fitting suit stopped in front of Sanji, whose eyes panned up to the man’s face with growing disbelief—they trailed over elegant fabric clinging to muscular legs, swept across the impeccably defined torso, and paused to appreciate how the bright green shade of his silk tie perfectly matched the man’s slicked-back hair. Golden cufflinks glinted as he slipped his hands into his pockets, complementing the three gold earrings dangling from his left ear.

“Is this seat taken?” Zoro asked ironically with a tilt of his head. His earrings clinked together and fell against tanned skin, which drew Sanji’s attention to his well-sculpted jaw, the curve of his neck, and the strong bones dipping under the white collar of what the cook reluctantly admitted was a truly dashing suit.

He was at a total loss for words—it was absolutely disgraceful. Sanji knew that his eyes had gone wide as he openly stared at the other man, mouth slack and fingers clenched around the wine glass, but he couldn’t seem to gather his wits long enough to offer a response, let alone stand and give him a proper greeting. Zoro laughed, flashing the cook a brilliant smile as he slid into the booth across from the stunned blond.

“Okay, it was worth Robin convincing me to put on this monkey suit just to see your dumbstruck expression.” He paused for Sanji’s response, waving a hand in front of his face when no words came out of the cook’s mouth. “Oi, anybody home?”

“Wha—uh…well, I…I guess a monkey suit _is_ appropriate for an ape like you,” he found himself saying.

Zoro frowned, putting on a mocking tone when he said, “Tch. A ‘hello’ would have been nice.” Sanji recognized that as a repetition of his own words from the morning after they’d spent the night in that hotel, and he felt his cheeks heat at the reminder.

 _Yeah, it’s definitely a date,_ he decided, feeling lightheaded—and not because of the wine. “You…that outfit…it looks good,” he got out lamely. “I—I mean, it’s a nice change from the rags you usually wear.”

“It obviously looks a hell of a lot better than ‘good’ since you can barely string together a proper sentence,” he teased.

Sanji’s cheeks continued to blaze under the swordsman’s painfully sexy glare. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ he wondered, resisting the urge to loosen his collar or nervously fidget with his cuffs. _This is pathetic behaviour from someone who claims to be a smooth-talking gentleman. It’s just a nice suit! That’s still the same idiot-marimo sitting there,_ he told himself firmly—but it wasn’t just a “nice suit.”

It looked fucking incredible on him.

Even his hair, which usually would have been offensively green, was combed and slicked back with something that made it shimmer exactly like the silk of his tie. The dark navy material of the blazer and dress pants was perfectly suited to his complexion and tailored magnificently to accentuate every perfect curve of his arms and chest. The cook felt his mouth begin to literally water as if he were looking at a beautifully plated meal and could imagine how succulent its taste would be. His entire face felt embarrassingly hot, but thinking about it only made his thoughts transition to how hot _Zoro’s_ face was, and then he could literally feel his skin burning with the desire to lean across the table and—

 _Holy shit, Sanji, get it the fuck together!_ he hissed inwardly. _Just calm down—he took you by surprise with that get-up. He knows how doe-eyed you get over a good suit…_ amazing suit, rather. The cook hastily took another sip of his wine, hoping to disguise the blush with his alcohol intolerance, and carefully set down the glass as he met the other man’s eyes.

“Color me impressed, marimo. Suddenly I’m remembering why it’s possible that I’m even remotely attracted to you.”

“Ha! Thanks, but that’s a little rude, don’t you think? I haven’t spent years training and perfecting this body to be your personal eye candy,” Zoro admonished him with another too-handsome-to-be-legal smirk.

“True. You aren’t sweet enough to be eye candy. You’re more like a tough piece of meat.”

“So just a piece of ass then?”

“Well, you’re definitely an asshole, but I’ll concede that you also have a nice ass.”

“I’m sure you’re dying to get in it, but we’re about to eat dinner, curly-brows, so how about you use those manners that you take so much pride in and save the verbal foreplay for the bedroom.”

Sanji made an affronted noise but was prevented from making a scathing reply by a young waitress who stopped at their table and handed them each a menu. “Good evening, gentleman. My name is Elizabeth, and I will be your server today. Our soup du jour is a traditional bouillabaisse, and we have a special on tonight for half-priced house wine—it’s the finest quality Merlot that you’ll find on the island,” she told them with a carefully trained smile.

Zoro took the menu in silence, seeming content to let Sanji handle the social graces while he began flipping through the pages with a tiny frown. “It’s all in French. Here’s where you’ll actually come in use, Cook. What are we having?” he looked expectantly at the blond, who mirrored his frown and turned back to the beautiful waitress.

“My apologies—Zoro hasn’t been properly trained for polite society, so please excuse his neglectful attitude towards a lovely maiden such as yourself! My name is Sanji, and it’s a pleasure to be served by you, Mademoiselle Elizabeth.” He returned her smile with a genuine one of his own, ignoring the kick he received under the table for this comment.

“It’s no trouble at all, Monsieur Sanji. What can I start you gentlemen off with tonight?” she replied swiftly.

“I guess I’ll try your house wine,” Zoro said unexpectedly. He almost never drank wine, opting instead for any liquor that was dark and heavy or else the cheapest ale he could get his hands on.

“I’ll take another glass myself, dear Elizabeth, and perhaps an order of saumon fumé to start?”

Once she had left to have their appetizer prepared, Zoro asked him to translate the French dishes on the menu. “I thought we could try their smoked salmon first, but I don’t know what kind of seafood you feel like eating. Give me something to start with—do you want muscles, crab, more fish…or how about escargot?”

“Yeah, don’t know what that last one is.”

“Snails.”

“Ick. They got any real meat?”

“Of course you come to a seafood restaurant and ask for meat. I swear, you’re as bad as Luffy. How about their filet de boeuf au morilles then? That’s grilled fillet mignon—steak, in laymen’s terms—with a mushroom brandy demi-glace.”

“I’m hearing the English, but it still sounds French to me. You know what I like to eat—order for me?”

“Ugh. Fine, but only because it’s more painful to watch you think.”

“You’re the best, curly.”

“Shut the fuck up, moss-head.”

Elizabeth returned with a bottle of wine and a second glass for Zoro. She filled them with a graceful pour, leaving the two men in comfortable silence after taking their order and bringing them their appetizer. Sanji did all of the talking, which suited the quiet swordsman just fine.

While they shared the salmon dish, Zoro relayed the details of his shopping trip with Robin, which had apparently been eventful due to his tendency to wander off and take the long way back to his crewmate, and the tedious visit to the haberdashery where he had apparently drawn a crowd while trying on different suits.

“It was ridiculous. I mean, why bother giving your opinion to a complete stranger like that?” he asked obliviously, referring to the group of women, and even a few men, who had joined Robin outside of the dressing rooms to offer their input on various outfits.

“You should always be attentive and appreciative of any lady’s advice, you ungrateful brute! I don’t know why they’d be interested in watching you try on suits, but who am I to question a woman’s idea of a suitable pastime? Those men, on the other hand, were probably just trying to get a look at your weird hair,” Sanji told him.

“Drop the act, Cook. You know I look damn good in this stupid thing, so don’t try to act like there’s _zero_ appeal in watching me put it on…or take it off,” he added with his typical lack of subtlety.

Sanji took another careful sip of his wine. “I thought we were saving the verbal foreplay for the bedroom?”

Zoro shrugged. “Unlike you, I don’t claim to be a refined gentleman. Like you said, I’m just an ape in a monkey suit.”

The cook finished his second glass of wine and boldly gave the swordsman an appreciative once-over. “It’s a damn fine suit, marimo. Who did your hair? You sure clean up nice.”

“Thanks,” he said, seeming genuinely pleased at the compliment this time. “Robin put some shit in it.”

Sanji felt the tiniest stuttering of his heartbeat at the way Zoro smiled, attacking the last of the salmon with a contented look on his face. The way his cheeks puffed out as he chewed was suddenly endearing to Sanji, who couldn’t shake the word “cute” from his mind.

“Now _this_ feels like a dream,” he commented absently, still staring at the gorgeously dressed man in front of him. “You’re actually eating slowly enough to keep it all in your mouth.”

“It tastes alright, but it’s got nothing on the salmon you can make, so I can stand to pace myself since we’re in a fancy-shmancy restaurant and all.”

Sanji paused at that, his chest squeezing in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable—rather, he was aware that the tightness was due to his genuine pleasure at hearing Zoro actually praise his food. The swordsman was never that forthcoming with compliments, so it was extremely gratifying to receive proof that Zoro had a high regard for the cook’s skill in the kitchen. “Thanks,” he said tentatively. “I’m glad to hear you like it. I’ll have to make it more often.”

Zoro nodded, distracted by the arrival of their entrees. Elizabeth handed him the plate of fillet mignon, setting another dish in front of Sanji. “Mmm, what’s that? It smells great.”

“Bar au beurre blanc et crabe—seabass with crabmeat in a sherry butter sauce,” Sanji told him, catching the waitress’ attention with his proficiency in French.

“Tu parles trés bien, Monsieur. Parlez-vous français?” Elizabeth asked him curiously.

“Oui, mademoiselle, but my partner here isn’t fluent in the least, otherwise I would gladly strike up a conversation.”

She smiled understandingly and made a small bow before leaving them to their meals. Zoro didn’t make a move to touch his food and had instead paused to stare at the cook with barely concealed wonder.

“You really like me, huh?” he said wryly, causing Sanji to pause with a forkful of fish halfway to his mouth.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just now, you referred to me as your partner and refused to talk to the pretty waitress in French because it would make me feel left out. Your flirting with her seems a little half-hearted, too.”

As soon as he said it, Sanji realized that it was true—he hadn’t been going full-on heart-eyed mode with the beautiful Elizabeth, and he had unconsciously used the word “partner” instead of something else that would have implied a strictly plutonic relationship.

“Don’t read too much into it and overinflate your ego. I’m just less embarrassed to be seen with you when you look like that,” he said casually, though it probably had less to do with Zoro’s new suit and more to do with the swordsman’s pleasant attitude. Sanji was, in fact, quite enjoying himself. Huh.

“Whatever. I don’t care if you don’t want to label this a date—I’m just glad to be spending time with you without us getting into some sort of fight. I was worried we wouldn’t be able to go a whole evening without one of us ruining it by going for the other’s throat.”

“The night is still young, shitty-swordsman,” Sanji reminded him, but his pulse was suddenly racing a mile a minute as he realized that he felt the same way. It was…nice…to be like this with Zoro. They could get along if they tried, and it wasn’t nearly as awkward as he’d feared.

They struck up another conversation over the main course with Sanji revealing that he had originally begun learning French from a customer at the Baratie, who had been quite persistent at enticing him into bed and barely spoke a lick of English.  

“She taught me the basic commands anyway,” he explained sheepishly.

“Commands? Yeah, I’ll bet she did,” Zoro remarked with an amused snort. He pitched his voice, surprising the blond by imitating a woman moaning. “Baise moi, Sanji! Plus fort!”

The blond almost swallowed his fork at that and was unable to stop the bubble of pure mirth from slipping out. “Oh my God,” he got out between choked laughter.

“Oh, mon Dieu!” Zoro translated, grinning at Sanji’s inability to reply due to a fit of very unmanly giggles. “What, did you think you were the only one who’s had sex with a French girl?” he asked the cook.

The blond wiped away a tear, coughing to clear his throat of any lingering laughter. “Well, shit. As hilarious as it was to hear those words come out of your mouth, please don’t ever imitate a woman’s voice again,” Sanji told him once he’d finally gained control of his speech.

“Deal.”

After that, the topic of conversation switched to Zoro as he was forced to reveal the circumstances in which he’d bedded a woman who spoke fluent French—Whiskey Peak _had_ been a pretty lively island, and the swordsman _was_ dense enough not to have realized that the lady was speaking a completely different language until they were halfway through.

By the time their entrees were finished, they had somehow managed to transition from Zoro’s first time with a Frenchwoman to his first time with a man, and the cook curiously inquired about a comment Zoro had once made about his childhood friend teaching him that the outer package isn’t necessarily as important as what was inside. It was a fascinating topic to Sanji, because he still had those moments when he was with Zoro and couldn’t believe that being intimate with another man felt so right.

“Kuina didn’t really teach me to think that way, not directly—we were too young when she died for us to have been discussing _that_ kind of thing…actually, all we really talked about was swords.”

“She sounds like a female version of you,” Sanji remarked, laughing a little as his wine-drunk mind ran with the thought. “A female you would’ve caught my attention a lot sooner even if she did have green hair and atrocious table manners.”

“Actually, I think she’s kind of like a female _you_...or you’re a male her, I guess.”

“Really? You think I’m like her?” Sanji asked, surprised.

“Maybe it’s just that you’ve always reminded me of her because Kuina and I were rivals constantly striving to be better than the other. She gave me just as much shit as you do, too, and she always talked like it was a damn chore to be around me, but...we understood each other and respected each other’s talent, you know? At the end of the day, we enjoyed fighting and welcomed the chance to test our skills against a worthy opponent. You and I are just like that, huh?”

Sanji slowly nodded, struck speechless by the comparison. He thought about Wado Ichimonji and the loving way in which Zoro took care of Kuina’s sword, wielding it between his teeth on his journey to fulfill their promise to become the greatest. The cook suddenly recalled the day he’d fallen down the stairs—Zoro had been beside him in and instant, his fingers trembling with panic in the blond’s hair as he felt for a head wound like the one that had killed his friend all those years ago. Zoro had first kissed him, without any hesitation, because he knew that he had the chance to save Sanji when he hadn’t been able to save Kuina... _“because you’re important to me,”_ he’d said.  

“Zoro.”

The name came out hoarsely, distorted by the emotion swelling inside the blond. He looked the swordsman in the eye and placed his forearms on the table so that he could lean towards him. For once, the oblivious man understood the hint and leaned in to meet Sanji’s lips in the middle. They kissed slowly, Zoro groaning either from the magic spreading through his body or from something else entirely—Sanji heard himself mirroring the sound, and he knew it wasn’t the magic that drew it out of him.

They broke apart, falling back into their seats and breathing hard. Both of them had moved during the kiss to take the other’s hand in one of their own, and they stayed like that for a long moment with their fingers interlocking across the table. “We’re halfway there,” Sanji told him with a quiet smile. “That was kiss number 50. Halfway.”

Zoro beamed at him, squeezing the blond’s hand in acknowledgment. “I think it’ll be a memorable one.”

“I’d hope so, seeing as how it happened on our first date.”

“So it is one? I mean, you think we’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a date. Don’t let it go to your head, dumbass.”

“You’re the dumbass for dating a dumbass.”

“We’re not _dating!_ I didn’t agree to that yet.”

Zoro quirked an eyebrow up. “Yet?”

Sanji withdrew his hand to furiously run his fingers through his hair. “You’re impossible, moss-for-brains! Stop trying to trap me with your sneaky romance—I’m not falling for it.”

“We’ll see about that…You were right, you know,” he said, transitioning into a more serious tone.

“I usually am, but what about this time?”

“I _had_ given up. I didn’t believe that you could ever be interested in me as anything more than your rival, or nakama, or a quick fuck if I was lucky. I didn’t see any point in pursuing you the way I wanted—but that was a cowardly way to think. I decided that I’m not gonna quit that easily, so prepare to be wooed, Cook.”

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Sanji snorted.

“Yeah, but you want to fuck this dork.”

“Well, you _did_ offer.”

“The offer still stands,” Zoro assured him, swallowing down the last of his wine. “We don’t have to do that tonight, though. It wouldn’t be classy after a first date.”

Sanji smirked. “We’re pirates, idiot. There’s a time and place for classy, and it ends once we leave this fine restaurant.”

“Are you saying you want to get the cheque?”

“I didn’t say that, but I was definitely implying it.”

Zoro instantly stuck out a hand to flag down their waitress. She noticed his enthusiasm and quickly went to prepare their bill. “I’m paying for us both since I kind of invited myself. That makes it official—it’s a date.”

“Then I’ll pick up the hotel tab since you let me stay for free last time.”

“You want to go to a hotel?” Zoro asked in pleasant surprise.

“It beats going back to the Sunny where we’ll get teased by Robin and hounded for details about our evening. Plus, you told Franky _not_ to build us a comfortable bed, and I totally forgot to buy extra tablecloths.”

“Well that was stupid. It looks like we’re out of options then,” Zoro agreed, letting his gaze roam hungrily over the blond. Sanji was likewise starved and quickly joined the swordsman in drinking in the other’s appearance across the table.   

The bill couldn’t come fast enough.


	11. You Shook Me All Night Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC

They wasted no time in walking to the closest hotel and booking a suite. Sanji was still pleasantly buzzed from the quality wine, and Zoro had taken his hand along the way, which added to the warmth spreading through the blond’s body. It felt different now—being with the swordsman. Sanji wasn’t just interested because of the physical attraction that had initially caught his attention. Now, he also felt an innocent sort of excitement when the other man touched him that was similar to the giddiness he experienced when fawning over a beautiful woman but had somehow reached a new level of desire that surpassed even that.

He wanted to be closer to Zoro. He trusted the swordsman and knew that if he chose to give himself completely, body and mind, all that he gave would be safe. That didn’t mean that such a decision would be easy to make or that Sanji could overcome his deepest fears when it came to revealing certain aspects of himself—secrets about his past, for example, that were still untold—and the fact that he was even _considering_ sharing any of it with Zoro was nearly enough to scare him back into self-isolation.

“Here’s the room. Should we take a shower first?” Zoro asked as they stepped inside the door marked with the same number as the room key. Sanji shook his head, shutting the other man up with a desperate kiss. “A little eager, are we?”

The blond nodded silently, still too embarrassed by his own enthusiasm to admit it aloud. He continued his assault on the swordsman’s mouth, sliding his arms around his shoulders as Zoro took him by the waist and pressed their contrasting frames together. Fingers tugged Sanji’s shirt out of his waistband, sliding against his hipbones with delicious heat that seemed to melt into his skin and pool in his groin. He groaned as Zoro’s thumbs moved in little circles there, kneading his flesh and lightly scraping his nails across the sensitive skin at his waist and lower back.

His own hands explored the muscles at the base of Zoro’s neck and throat, enjoying the smooth slickness of his hair—he drew slender fingers through the carefully groomed locks to loosen them into something that more closely resembled Zoro’s usual style. The effect this had in contrast to the suit and tie was unbearably sexy—the swordsman already looked like he’d been fucked with his hair mussed up like that, and Sanji felt his cock throb in anticipation. He was already picturing Zoro on the bottom, bent over and wanting, as Sanji slid into him and gripped _his_ waist. He wondered what the swordsman would sound like, how he would move beneath him or on top—the possibilities were overwhelming the cook’s imagination.

“Zoro,” he said huskily, breaking the string of deep kisses to begin coaxing him out of his clothes. “Tonight was fun. I had a really good time,” he told him sincerely. Sanji was breathing hard, head swimming as he was nearly swallowed by his lust, but he managed to pause long enough to at least tell his date that he had enjoyed himself.

“Good. Me too,” Zoro got out, seeming even further gone as the haze of lust captured him, too. “The night is still young, though, right shitty-cook?” He dove at Sanji again, crushing their lips together while shedding his suit jacket and reaching to yank off the tie.

“Stop,” the blond said, catching his wrist mid-action. “Leave the tie,” he growled, releasing his wrist to instead work the trail of buttons open. Slowly, Zoro’s smooth chest was exposed as Sanji removed his white dress shirt, admiring the way the green silk cut across the swordsman’s scar and tapered into a point like an arrow directing him below the man’s waistband.

He wanted nothing more than to follow that direction.

Wordlessly, he started maneuvering Zoro towards the bed until the back of his knees knocked against it, and Sanji pushed him gently onto the mattress. He leaned over the tanned body sprawled out on the dark sheets, running his hands along the length of his torso to grip the edge of his dress pants. The cook enjoyed the mild surprise that flashed across Zoro’s face when he violently discarded the remaining garments with an eager flourish.

“Look who’s being unfair now,” Zoro commented, completely nude except for the green tie while Sanji was still fully dressed in the constricting fabric that did nothing to hide his state of arousal. The blond hastily rectified this, not even taking the time to fold his favourite suit as he tossed the pieces aside. His shyness was abated by his intense desire and the effects of the wine, so he didn’t hesitate to crawl on top of the swordsman, naked and painfully hard, to line their bodies up and straddle him with his strong legs. He gasped into Zoro’s mouth when his large hand wrapped around their cocks, jerking them to full attention in his practiced grip. Sanji rolled his hips with the motion, gripping at the blankets on either side of the swordsman’s head to ground himself as they slid against one another.

“Mmm—oh fuck, Zoro. That feels so good,” he said against the other man’s throat. The cook was licking and sucking wherever he could reach, half-delirious with pleasure as Zoro’s warmth surrounded and heated him from the inside out. Sanji withdrew slowly, panting as he reluctantly slipped out of Zoro’s grip before he was spent. The swordsman looked at him questioningly as he stood up and nudged his thighs apart. “Put your legs up,” he explained, bending Zoro’s knees as he brought the heels of his feet to rest against the mattress below the curve of his ass. “You look fucking delicious—I want to taste you so bad,” he said roughly, causing a red shadow to spread across the dark skin of the swordsman’s cheeks. Sanji had never had a dick in his mouth, nor could he begin to imagine what it would be like to swallow another man and suck him off, but Zoro was staring at him incredulously, red-faced and silently begging for him to follow through with the statement.

He stilled when the blond ducked his head and gripped the base of his cock. It was so warm in his hand, and he could feel the throbbing pulse of Zoro’s arousal as he slowly leaned his head down to close the remaining distance. The swordsman bucked unconsciously and let out a pleased moan at the touch of Sanji’s lips parting around his tip. The blond could immediately taste the salty pre-come on his tongue and was surprised to find that he didn’t mind the flavour—it was unusual, and not particularly appetizing, but not unpleasant at all. He wondered if it was an acquired taste that would improve over time and grinned at the thought. The cook flicked his tongue across the smooth flesh experimentally before slowly lowering his head to take in another inch of his length.         

“Ah…S-sanji…more—it’s too slow,” Zoro panted, arching his back as he struggled to remain still. His legs were bent on either side of the cook’s shoulders, knees squeezing and releasing the pressure as he fought the urge to close his legs. The blond did as he was asked, deep-throating as far as he could manage and sucking hard enough to put indents in his cheeks. The swordsman cried out in surprise, shuddering in response to Sanji’s enthusiasm. Fingers slid into his hair, gripping the blond strands hard enough to elicit moans of pain-pleasure that seemed to travel along the swordsman’s cock, dragging out another appreciative cry.

 _He’s unexpectedly vocal,_ Sanji thought, incredibly pleased. Zoro had been more of a quiet groaner than a sensual moaner in the past, but the new sounds he was making were a whole other level of sexy. _I want to make him scream, so he’ll never be able to make fun of me for doing it,_ he decided, giving himself the motivation to move quicker and begin bobbing his head in a relentless motion. He slid his lips up and down the swordsman’s cock in an imitation of the times that had been done to him, swirling his tongue around the tip when he brought his head up and adding a few pumps with his hand before each decent.

Zoro was quickly coming undone, gasping and sweating as he neared his peak. The fingers in Sanji’s hair clenched in warning, gently tugging his head away from his task. “That’s enough—I can’t…I’ll come if you don’t stop.”

“Aww, you can’t come twice in one round? I guess I’ve got you beat there,” he taunted.

“We can’t all be giant perverts like you, love-cook.”

“All it takes is some endurance training, shitty-swordsman, which I would be happy to provide as your generous sensei.” The cook smirked and licked his lips, reveling in the lust that sparked in the swordsman’s eyes as he watched the movement of that tongue with a near-feral expression. They clambered into a seated position, Zoro’s hands never leaving the blond’s hair as they kissed again, sharing the taste of Zoro’s arousal and clinging to each other with bruising strength. “I want to be inside _you_ this time,” Sanji muttered, even though this was obvious from the course their verbal foreplay had been taking during dinner, “but I’m not sure…I mean, how do I—?”

“Back up a bit. I’ll show you, so just…just watch,” Zoro told him, blushing shyly. Sanji thought he could’ve come from just looking at that expression on the gruff and tough swordsman’s face. He momentarily lost his ability to speak because it was so unexpectedly attractive. The other man retrieved a bottle of lube from the nightstand, climbing back into bed with an air of determination that immediately captured the cook’s full attention. Sanji felt his eyes widen until they were nearly popping out of his head when Zoro turned his back to him on all fours, bending forward to place his cheek against the mattress, and literally _lifted_ his ass in the air. It was such a provocative and exposing position that Sanji bit his tongue trying to get out words that ended up being an unintelligible whine.

He watched in fascination as Zoro uncapped the lubricant and reached between his owns legs to finger his opening with slick thrusts. It didn’t look like a particularly comfortable way to prepare oneself, which made Sanji think that the other man was purposely making a show out of it for the cook’s benefit…and holy sweet mother of _fuck_ was it working.

“I didn’t peg you for an exhibitionist, Zoro,” he said huskily.

The swordsman glanced up at him from the awkward angle with a pointed look at Sanji’s hand, which was furiously pumping his own cock. “Well, I had you pegged for a shameless voyeur from the beginning, pervert-cook.”

“I can’t exactly argue with that under these circumstances. _Shit!_ ” he exclaimed as Zoro added a second finger, moaning wantonly as they slid all of the way inside. “I can’t just sit here and watch this—it’s making me want to…”

Before he even finished his sentence, Sanji snatched up the bottle of lube and quickly coated his hands with it, lining up one of his fingers with Zoro’s in a silent request for permission. After a brief shudder, the swordsman withdrew his fingers and let the blond take over. The cook slipped two of his own fingers past the wet ring of muscle and stretched the opening farther with a gentle scissoring motion. He continued to explore, thrusting his fingers in as deep as they would go and spreading lube along the smooth walls.

“It’s so warm…I can feel something hard here—”

“Fuck! Fucking _shit_ do that again!” Zoro growled. Sanji repeated the motion, curling his fingers to rub against the firmer place where he could feel Zoro’s prostate through the twitching muscle. “Right there. Remember that spot, Cook. Okay, I’m ready now…you can fuck me.”

Sanji withdrew his fingers, flipping the unsuspecting swordsman onto his back with a light shove. He pushed Zoro’s legs back until his knees almost touched his chest (he wasn’t as flexible as the blond, but damn did he look good like that). “Hold these for me?” he asked innocently, pleased when Zoro gripped his own knees without complaint. Sanji surprised him then by reinserting the two fingers to continue his careful preparation.

“I said I was ready. Why are you still doing that, pervert?”

The question didn’t hold much weight considering how the swordsman was trembling in pleasure and slowly fucking himself on Sanji’s fingers. The cook carefully added a third finger, ignoring his own desperate need to hurry the process along—he had long passed the point of comfortable arousal and thought that he might explode if he waited any longer.

“Did you forget how strong my legs are? There’s gonna be a lot of power behind my thrusts, so I just want to be sure you’re loose enough.”

“Bastard! You took me in after two fingers when you were a virgin, and I’m thicker than you. Who’s underestimating who now?”

“Shut up.” Sanji cut off his complaints with a serious glare that left no room for an argument. He leaned over Zoro’s shaking form, touching their foreheads together and reaching up to stroke the other man’s jaw with his free hand. “This isn’t a contest, dumbass. We were fucking each other like horny teenagers before and rushing through this part. I don’t want to fuck you tonight.”

“What—?”

He cut off Zoro’s confused reply with an insistent press of his mouth, parting the other man’s lips to deepen the kiss in the hopes that he could convey his emotions that way. They melted against each other, Sanji drawing his fingers over the swordsman’s throat while Zoro ran his hands along the cook’s spine. He gasped as Sanji thrust his fingers in one last time, stretching the opening as far as he could without causing an ounce of pain. When he removed the fingers, they sought out Zoro’s wrists, pinning them above his head as the blond captured both of his hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Zoro.”

He was making a point, and the swordsman knew it. Sanji had restrained his arms in an echo of the pirate bastard who had touched Zoro this way without his permission—that son of a bitch had _dared_ to treat the proud swordsman like his comfort wasn’t important, using him to get off in whatever way the twisted fuck had wanted. It made Sanji sick just thinking about it. 

A thin film of moisture coated Zoro’s eyes, but it was quickly overwhelmed by anger. The cook saw it coming—he knew that the stupid swordsman was about to deny that he had ever been put in such a shameful position and then yell at the blond for insulting his strength.

 _“Don’t_ get angry with me,” Sanji snapped before he could. He met his nakama’s dark eyes with equal intensity. “I don’t think you’re anywhere near soft enough to be unable to handle me—that’s not what I’m saying. I’m not trying to imply that I could hurt you…all I’m saying is that I don’t ever want to.”

Zoro’s eyes were wide, his lip trembling almost imperceptibly in a surprisingly open show of emotion. He nodded slowly, seeming to understand what Sanji was getting at, and then abruptly shut his eyes as the cook slowly slid into him. The blond seated himself deep inside, pausing to allow the swordsman time to adjust. While he waited, he released the man’s wrists and trailed slow kisses along his jaw and chest, paying particular attention to the sensitive skin around his scar. It took all of Sanji’s willpower, and some that he borrowed from tomorrow’s supply, to hold himself still as Zoro’s warmth throbbed and clenched around him. He was so hard that it hurt—he wanted to snap his hips back and plunge into the swordsman with vigor, but he remained motionless from the waist down and focused instead on sucking his way back up the curve of the swordsman’s neck.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it,” he told Zoro, whispering it into his ear and making the three golden earrings clink with his breath. Zoro’s strong arms encircled him and held the cook against his chest, fingers digging into the skin of his back.

“Make love to me, you dork.”

Sanji snorted. “You’re calling _me_ the dork while you’re dropping sappy lines like that, hypocrite-marimo?”

“Listen, Cook. While I genuinely appreciate your consideration for my past trauma, I’m not one of your fragile ladies. I’ve already put the past behind me, and I’d honestly appreciate it more if you'd hurry up and  _move_ before I go limp.”

“That, I can do,” the blond replied gratefully. He wasn’t as close to the edge as he had been when he’d first entered the swordsman, but he still didn’t think he could hold this motionless position much longer. Finally, he drew his hips back and snapped them forwards with an audible smack that reverberated through both of their bodies. Zoro tossed his head back and met the next thrust with his own rocking hips, clutching at Sanji’s shoulders like a drowning man would a life preserver.

“Fuck _yes,_ Sanji! Don’t stop,” he growled with a violent shudder. The cook settled into a smooth rhythm, moaning and gasping along with the swordsman as his wonderful heat squeezed around his aching cock. Their mouths crashed together, each swallowing the other’s cries with a passionate battle of tongues as Sanji increased his pace. Zoro’s legs had wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, as they found a synchronized pattern of grinding hips and careful thrusts.

It was almost too much stimulation for the blond to handle. Sanji had never had sex like this with anyone, and he wasn’t just referring to anal sex. No, he could tell that something much deeper was involved in their lovemaking. _Emotion,_ he realized. _I’ve never been with someone who I really cared about—not beyond the natural feelings I have towards women anyway._

Sanji cared about Zoro so fucking much that it was making his head feel faint trying to measure it. How it had escalated to this was a mystery, but the depth of his caring undeniably surpassed anything he’d felt for his previous partners. He didn’t think he would be able to let this idiot swordsman go—in fact, he was determined to hold on long after the stupid curse was passed on. They clutched at each other as they reached their climaxes—Zoro shouted Sanji’s name and covered their chests and stomachs with hot, white liquid as the blond slammed into him with one final thrust, coming so hard that his vision swam with black spots.

“Fuck, I love you,” Zoro told him unexpectedly. He melted into the mattress and pulled Sanji down on top of him, who had gone still in surprise.

“H-how…how can you just _say_ that so casually?” he got out, his voice sounding hoarse and embarrassingly shaky as he went limp in the swordsman’s arms.

“Because it’s true.”

Sanji felt the light pressure of lips against his hair and Zoro’s fingers lightly tracing patterns in the sweat on his back. He heard the other man sigh and relax all of the tension in his body as if the verbal confession had taken with it an incredible weight. The blond was spared from making a reply, which he knew he wasn’t prepared to give, by Zoro pulling him into a slow, heated kiss. “Mmm…go take a shower, Cook. You’re all sticky.”

“No thanks to you—and you’re just as much of a mess!”

“A hot mess though, right?” he asked cheekily, stealing Sanji’s joke. The abrupt change in tone signalled the swordsman’s attempt to give the cook an excuse to leave—he probably thought that Sanji needed some space to think about what Zoro had just told him, but the opposite was true. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Zoro loved him, so Sanji didn’t want to push the swordsman away just because he’d said aloud what the blond had already suspected.

“We’re _both_ hot messes covered in _your_ hot mess, so come and shower with me,” the cook offered. He propped himself up to look at Zoro’s smiling face, grinning back at him with equal glee. “The night is still young…” he reminded him.

The swordsman shot up in a tangle of limbs, kissing the blond senseless. Sanji shivered under his touch, humming in satisfaction as they managed to make their way into the bathroom. It turned out to be a very, very long night, and their kiss count had reached 55 by the time they returned to the Sunny the next morning.


	12. Can't Help Falling in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis

“Cook-san?”

“Y-yes, Robin-chan?”

“Is there perhaps something on your mind?” she asked him knowingly.

“Why would you think that, my lovely flower?”

“Because you asked me if I’d like a cup of coffee three times within the past ten minutes, and you’ve been pacing outside the entire time.”

Sanji gave an awkward laugh and stepped slowly into the library where Robin was reading. “Nothing gets past you, my sweet.”

She indulged him with a smile and motioned for him to join her at the table. “Have a seat and allow me to make _you_ a cup of coffee this once,” she entreated, moving to pour the brew before he could argue. “Now tell me, is there something I can help you with?”

“Many things, surely, Robin-chan. I feel I can trust you absolutely, and I know that you’re a valued confidant to other members of the crew…”

“I take it this is about Swordsman-san?”

Sanji swallowed nervously, meeting her penetrating gaze as she took a seat across from him with their coffee. “That would be an accurate assumption, yes. I’m sure he’s told you all about our…um…”

She shook her head instantly. “I can assure you that Zoro has never spoken to me about his personal life with you. He only came to me to share his own feelings on the matter or entreat me for advice when he felt that you were in need of help such as when the curse was afflicting you.”

“Oh. Well, you obviously know what’s been going on to some extent because I couldn’t keep my big, stupid mouth shut,” he told her wryly, remembering his embarrassing outburst. “At the risk of further offending your delicate sensibilities, mine and Zoro's…interactions…have been ongoing since then as you may have guessed.”

Robin giggled cutely and gave him a mischievous grin in a clear communication that she had. “Please, don’t censor yourself on my account. Why don’t you get straight to the heart of whatever’s distressing you?” she suggested.

“Okay. Last night we went to a restaurant on a date,” he began quickly, casually sipping his drink.

“How lovely. No doubt the sex was satisfying, so I assume your concern is regarding something of a more innocent nature?”

He choked on his coffee and gave her a withering glance. “Robiiin! Sometimes your perceptive abilities are a bit _too_ forward.”

“Nonsense. We’re both adults here, Cook-san. I wouldn’t be much help if I weren’t comfortable discussing these things.” She sipped her drink innocently, urging him to continue with her eyes.

“Okay, yes, we had sex after dinner at a nearby hotel…but it was different.”

“They say it’s healthy for couples to try new things in the bedroom,” she told him seriously.

He reddened at her casual tone and forced himself to ignore the perverted images that his mind presented in response to her words. “That’s the thing—we’re not a couple, and we haven’t put a label on whatever we are. I know that he’s serious about me, though, and after last night, I think it could become like that for me, too.”

She smiled at him with genuine delight. “He confessed to you then,” she guessed, “presumably, in the heat of passion.”

“I—I mean he…how did you know that?!” he stuttered, mortified.

“Like I said, Swordsman-san has spoken to me about the depth of his feelings for you, and I know him well enough to surmise that he wouldn’t have openly admitted such feelings this early on unless he were too overcome in the moment to use his reason.”

“So he said that he loved me by accident?” Sanji asked, confused.

“In a sense. However, I don’t think that in any way cheapens the moment—rather, I expect it surprised and embarrassed him how easily you were able to draw it out of him.”  

“He didn’t seem all that embarrassed. I got the feeling that he was relieved.”

“Perhaps he was, in the moment, but I think it’s likely that he’ll begin overthinking how his hasty words will affect you,” she contemplated. After a short pause, in which they each took a sip of their coffee, Robin asked, “How _is_ it affecting you, Cook-san?”

Sanji thought about it, identifying the expected insecurity and disbelief that came with having a deep-seated lack of self-respect resulting from his miserable upbringing—he hadn’t told the crew about it yet because the memories of his early life before he’d met Zeff were still too painful and surreal to share with his nakama. There were things about his family that he was deeply ashamed of…

 _Vinsmoke—_ the surname he had been born with and the family of ruthless assassins that the cook had just barely escaped from at the tender age of eight. His own father had made it clear that he didn’t need such a worthless excuse for a son and had let Sanji leave under the condition that he relinquish all of his familial ties. Even so, there had always been an undercurrent of terror inside the blond that kept him awake at night, wondering if his life as a pirate could remain unnoticed by his family indefinitely.

The Vinsmokes were merciless and power hungry—his father had rejected a failure, deeming him to be too weak compared to his other children, but as the Straw Hat pirates became more famous, Sanji’s fear that his past would one day catch up to him continued to grow. He was truly terrified that they would come for him one day. Although he knew that his crew would never judge him for it, the cook still harboured the lingering notion that his blood was dirty—tainted by the Vinsmoke genes that had created him. He had to force himself to stop asking how Zoro, or anyone else, could possible love a failure like him and focus on the way it made him feel to be loved at all.

“I’m happy,” he concluded in response to Robin’s question. “It scares the shit out of me, and sometimes I find it so unbelievable that I can only conclude I’m living in a dream, but those are my demons that I have to face. I don’t want Zoro to think that I’m running away from him,” _when it’s really my past that I’m running from,_ he added silently. It made him ashamed, because he knew that Zoro regarded his past traumas as stepping stones that he had overcome and lessons to learn from on his journey to be the greatest swordsman. By contrast, Sanji was a coward who was running from the pain he’d suffered—shutting it out and pretending that he wasn’t affected by it when he was actually terrified that it would come back to haunt him.

“I don’t know what to do, Robin.”

“Do whatever you want to do, Sanji-kun.”

He sighed into his coffee, abandoning all pretenses of being a calm and collected gentleman to allow himself a brief moment of respite for reflection. “It’s not that simple,” he told her woefully.

“Love rarely is.”

***

As Robin predicted, Zoro started walking on eggshells around Sanji the very next day, never looking him in the eye for more than a quick glance and always kissing him as the schedule dictated and not a peck more. He held the blond no differently than usual, matching the cook’s pace whenever he deepened their kisses, but he was obviously holding himself back from initiating anything for fear of making Sanji uncomfortable.

By the time they reached kiss number 75, the cook could take it no longer. He decided that he needed to show the stupid swordsman that he wasn’t an easily frightened bird on the constant verge of taking flight. It had been two days since Zoro had let it slip that he loved him, and Sanji hadn’t run for the hills yet, which apparently wasn’t a clear enough sign that the cook had calmly accepted the other man’s feelings.

That was why, when he was setting Zoro’s plate down at dinner that night, Sanji gave the swordsman kiss number 80—right in front of the entire crew. It wasn’t as though they didn’t all know that the two men were kissing regularly, but with the exception of Zoro’s one slip-up, their lip-locks had always been a private affair. The fact that Sanji willingly put it on display in front of his precious ladies and all of his immature crewmates meant that he wasn’t ashamed of what he and Zoro were doing and was ready to face whatever taunting the others had in store.

“Yowza! That wasn’t very subtle, Cook-bro,” Franky commented with a lewd wink.

“You look a little warm, Zoro. Do you need to loosen your collar?” Nami teased.

“He doesn’t have a collar, Nami.”

“It’s an expression that means he needs to cool down, because he’s blushing like a schoolgirl,” she explained, thumping Luffy on the head.        

“Zoro would make a pretty girl, wouldn’t he Sanji?” the captain asked with a food-filled grin.

“I think he’s pretty enough the way he is,” the blond replied smoothly, “and he _has_ proven himself to be a lovely impromptu flower arrangement—for a marimo.”

“What’s that on your neck, curly? Looks like a love-bite,” Zoro lied, causing the blond’s eyebrow to twitch dangerously.

“My love certainly bites, and you would do well to remember that, moss-head, before you ever think of marking my beautiful skin for real.”

“You two are so cute,” Nami commented sweetly.

“Not as cute as you and Robin-chan, my beautiful swan!”

“You guys are still doing the dance with no pants then,” Franky concluded, which was an ironic expression coming from a man in a speedo.

“Damn it, you perverted cyborg! Save your vulgar expressions for when we aren’t eating at the table!” Sanji snapped, his face flushed.

“As a faithful night-watch, I think it’s safe to say that this table has seen worse,” Robin reminded him slyly.

“He _is_ pretty loud, even for a screamer,” Zoro added conversationally.

“I’ll make _you_ scream if you don’t shut the hell up, shitty-bastard!”

“Oh yeah? Looking forward to it, Cook.”

“I’ll erase both of your debts if you let me watch,” Nami chimed in with a catlike smile. Zoro shot her a questioning glance as if he were trying to decide whether or not she was serious.

“Don’t _consider_ it, you perverted exhibitionist!” Sanji yelled at him.

The swordsman held his hands up in apology. “Sorry, but I owe her _a lot_ of money. You can understand her interest in voyeurism, right Cook?”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re gonna get kicked, Zoro,” Luffy warned him, staring excitedly at Sanji’s flaming limbs.

“I can treat the burn wounds, but there’s no saving a caved-in skull,” Chopper added with a giggle.

“Don’t fight in the galley, bros! We don’t need any more holes in the wall,” Franky implored them.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m finished eating—you wanna take this outside, shit-cook?”

Sanji cracked his knuckles, purely for effect since he wouldn’t be using his hands to fight. “Gladly.”

They left their crewmates to finish the meal in peace, but neither of them were really looking for a fight. The minute the galley door closed behind them, Zoro pulled the blond into his arms and captured his mouth in a desperate kiss, lifting him a foot off of the deck with unexpected enthusiasm.

“What were you doing in there?” he asked, breaking apart to look at the blond searchingly. “If you act like that so openly than they’ll think—”

“Let them think it,” Sanji responded, breathless from the other man’s sudden attack. “It was fun for a while, sneaking around to kiss in private, but I think we should get the crew used to the idea of us doing stuff like that…you know, for when we continue this after the curse is gone. Hiding it would be too much work, and it’s enough work just being the ship’s cook.”

“If you really want to, then I think that’s a great idea,” Zoro told him, genuinely surprised by the suggestion.

“Have you been back to the men’s quarters since this morning?”

“No, why?”

Instead of answering him, Sanji slipped out of the swordsman’s arms and motioned for him to follow the blond into the shared bedroom. The cook locked the door behind them and flicked on the lights. Zoro immediately noticed that the hanging bunk beds had been slightly rearranged—where there had been six wooden beds suspended from the ceiling in three pairs, there was now a double bed created from two of the lower bunks, which had been unhooked from their upper neighbors and joined at floor level.

“Franky modified those two so that they could be lowered and fitted together. It’s reversible for when we sleep at night, but this way we can take advantage of the room since it has a lockable door.”

“Did you ask him to make this for us?” Zoro asked as he ducked under the hanging bunks to test out the mattress.

“He’d already suggested it, so I just took back what you told him about us not needing it. I know he assumed we would want to share it all the time, but its fine if we just put it together for—”

“Come here, love-cook. Try it out before you write it off as an occasional thing,” Zoro interrupted, catching Sanji’s wrist as he approached and pulling the blond down to lie beside him. They fit together like spoons, the swordsman curling around the slimmer man’s lean form with an arm draped over his waist. The cook could feel the swordsman’s even breathing against his neck, sending shivers down his spine as he cuddled into him. “Mmm it’s pretty roomy. I bet we’d be real warm sleeping here around the winter islands,” Zoro commented, already yawning as they made themselves comfortable.

“Yeah, and sweat our asses off by the summer ones. Your natural body temperature is like a damn furnace.”

“Sleep in the nude then,” Zoro suggested, and the cook could feel his sly smile against his shoulder blade.

“You wish, pervert.”

“You’re the one who had Franky build us a sex bunk.”

“Don’t call it that!” Sanji bristled, squirming against the larger man. “Franky named it the Love Nest,” he added sheepishly.

Zoro snorted. “Are we supposed to be love birds?”

“I don’t know, can marimos lay eggs?”

“Why am I the one laying the eggs?”

“Because they’d be green—all the better for camouflaging.”

“Yours would have a swirly pattern on the shell. That wouldn’t be very good—the babies would hatch and get dizzy.”

“I wish I were a bird right now, so I could peck out your eyes for that comment.”

“But if I’m also a bird then I could just fly away, and then you wouldn’t get laid, bird-brain.”

There was a short pause in which Sanji seemed to be considering his reply. “Zoro…”

“Yeah?”

“I have no fucking idea why we’re talking about this. It is by far the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had in my life—we are not goddamn birds.”

“Blame the cyborg and his lame taste in names,” Zoro said with a barking laugh that the blond felt travelling through his body.

“Usopp’s was worse. He suggested the Sodomy Den.”

“Gross. Can we go back to the bird thing? I’m kind of curious about how birds even have sex. Do they do it in their nests? What do you think, Mr. Voyeur? You ever been birdwatching?”

“First, you’re an asshole. Second, I believe they do it like this…”

Suddenly, the blond rolled them to the side and straddled him, pinning Zoro on his back as he gave a demonstrative roll of his hips. The motion piqued the swordsman’s libido, sending blood to the area where Sanji’s thrusts created a warm friction. He leaned down to press their mouths together and draw out Zoro’s tongue.

“This wouldn’t be as much fun with beaks,” he commented, catching the cook’s tongue between his lips and sucking eagerly.

“Or without dicks,” Sanji replied, sliding their hardening erections together with another sensual hip roll. His hands were braced on either side of Zoro’s head, but the swordsman’s were freely roaming over the strong thighs pinning him in place, sneaking under the white dress shirt to feel the hard muscles of the cook’s abs. He gripped the blond hairs trailing into his waistband, tugging at them playfully while Sanji expertly ravished his mouth.

“Birds don’t have dicks?” Zoro asked rhetorically between gasps—it was starting to feel hot now, both of their breathing coming in a heavy pants as sweat started to stick their shirts to their backs. The cook was not letting up with his grinding, swatting the swordsman’s hand away when he tried to undo their belts.

“Not this time,” he ordered. “We’re doing it like love birds, marimo. I’m gonna make you come just like this,” he explained, increasing the rhythm of his thrusts. Zoro bucked into him, matching the cook’s delicious movements with careful thrusts of his own. A groan escaped him when Sanji’s tongue found the crook of his neck, drawing a wet trail from his collar bone to the underside of his throat.

“Oh shit…I didn’t know you could do that,” he confessed, tossing his head back as his groin flared with the heat of Sanji’s rubbing against it. He could already feel his orgasm building as his cock throbbed beneath the fabric of his pants.

The cook smirked against his jaw, nipping the bone there and flicking his tongue over the skin between his teeth. “Are you kidding? Haven’t you ever dry-humped before?”

“No. I’m not a bird. I like to use my dick as intended—oh f-fuck…mmm, that feels awesome.”

His focus switched solely to the other man’s increasingly erratic thrusts, pleased when Sanji managed to remove their shirts without losing his momentum. His pale chest was flushed and heaving from the effort—the blond really was doing most of the work on top like that—and the sight of Sanji rocking above him, head thrown back as he rode the swordsman as if he could fuck him through their clothes, brought Zoro to the edge of his peak.

“Shit, Zoro. I’m so hard it actually hurts, but I can’t stop…ah!” He could feel the swordsman’s hardness twitching through the stretched fabric and knew that he was close as well.

“At this rate…I’m gonna...mmm…come in my pants,” Zoro got out, humming in pleasure when the blond latched onto one of his nipples and sucked hard. It perked up under the smooth flick of his tongue, adding to the many sensations that were assaulting the swordsman’s body.

“Change your pants after,” the cook muttered like it was obviously, “or stay naked. I can get behind that.”

“Literally?” Zoro asked. “Because I want you inside me again, Sanji. I want you to fuck me even harder until I can’t sit in a chair without the pain reminding me of how good it felt to have your dick buried in my ass.”

The blond was hanging onto every word, a strangled moan slipping out as he pressed their groins together. Sanji wasn’t able to respond in time before his orgasm hit, shaking his entire frame with the intensity of it as he continued riding his pleasure along with the swordsman. Zoro gripped his narrow waist a few moments after, thrusting against him one last time as warm come filled his pants.

Sanji flopped forward, covering him like a blanket. His heart was pounding as he lay atop the swordsman’s chest and waited for his breathing to slow down after the post-orgasm high. Blond hair spilled over Zoro’s shoulder like honey—sticky from sweat and shining bright-yellow against the other man’s dark skin. He ran his fingers through it, marveling at its softness against his callused hand. The cook had nuzzled into the curve of his neck and was planting light kisses in the hollow with absentminded tenderness. Zoro stroked a thumb across his cheek, daring to believe for the moment that this was real.

“I feel dirty, Cook.”

“Me too. In more ways than one, although I don’t know why—dry-humping is kid stuff. I can’t believe you’ve never done it.”

“I probably just grew up too fast.”

“Yeah? That sounds like you. I bet you looked like an adult by the time you were fifteen.”

“I could grow more than your measly scruff by the time I was twelve.”

“Bullshit. You’re disturbingly hairless for your size, but that could be the result of some areas not getting enough sunlight to support thicker clumps of moss.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making fun of people’s hair, curly-brows.”

“Shut up, chlorophyll.”

“Dartboard.”

“Kelp-head.”

“Narutomaki.”

“You belong at the bottom of the ocean.”

“You belong in a bowl of ramen.”

“Hey, do you like ramen?”

“Yeah. You should make us some.”

“Okay.”

They drifted into comfortable silence, Sanji tracing random patterns in Zoro’s nearly non-existent chest hair with his pale fingers while the swordsman simply gazed at his face. Part of him was still waiting for the blond to suddenly disappear because it was too surreal—too impossible a long-awaited desire—for him to fully comprehend that the cook was really with him willingly.

He must have made some sort of discontented noise because Sanji shifted to prop himself up on the swordsman’s chest, piercing him with one blue eye. Zoro tried to memorize the other man’s flawless features, reaching out to sweep back his fringe and reveal a second scrutinizing eye.

“You’re not going to scare me away,” he said firmly, reading the swordsman’s mind. Something dark began brewing in those seas of blue that held Zoro’s gaze—he sensed a storm of emotions rolling beneath the surface of Sanji’s calm demeanor and knew that something was bothering the cook, too. “If anything, it’ll be me who screws this up,” he added so quietly that even at this distance the swordsman had to strain to hear it.

“Why?” Zoro asked him simply.

Sanji’s expression blanked for a painfully long moment. “Because…I’m not an easy person to love.”

“Since when have I ever made things easy for myself?”

The blond’s lips quirked into a smile at that. “I know that you’re a masochist and all, but even you can’t carry this burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Sanji. Where did you get that stupid idea?”

He dropped his gaze and became very quiet, pulling away from the swordsman’s touch so that his hair spilled over his face once more. “It’s not just about me…It’s about where I came from.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “You mean the Baratie? I think I can handle a fighting cook, no matter how unruly.”

He smiled at the blond, noticing how the other man seemed uncomfortable with the topic and reluctant to delve into it further. Even so, he seemed to be on the verge of giving a more concise answer when he abruptly closed himself off again, quelling the storm in his eyes and reverting back to his calm, collected pretense.

“I need a cigarette,” he said suddenly, sliding out of the bed and redressing with an urgency that left Zoro feeling cold from his absence. There was a lingering tension in Sanji’s shoulders that the swordsman didn’t like, but he knew better than to ask him if he was alright. The cook lit up and took a drag from his cigarette, which seemed to immediately improve his despondent mood. “Well, I’m going to clean up and start planning lunch—maybe I _will_ make ramen. Don’t you dare leave your dirty pants lying around, moss-head. We share this room with the crew.”

Sanji flashed a wry smile as he turned away, startling Zoro with the abruptness of his exit. He didn’t think to call the cook back before it was too late. _What the heck’s gotten into him?_ he wondered with a twinge of trepidation. _I don’t like the look in his eyes when he shuts down like that. Whatever he was about to tell me, it can’t be good…_


	13. Heartbreaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Heartbreaker" by Led Zeppelin

“Hey, uh…Luffy?”

“Mmm? What’s up, Zoro?” the captain said, leaning onto his back to look at the swordsman upside down from his sprawled position on the Sunny’s figurehead.

“I wanted to ask you something. It’s kind of important.”

Luffy rolled onto his stomach and rested his chin in his hands, feet swinging behind him. “Okay,” he said seriously. Perhaps he caught the nervousness in Zoro’s tone because he had instantly shut off his usual childish demeanor to give the swordsman his undivided attention.

“It’s—it’s about Sanji.”

Luffy immediately perked up at this, his eyes widening at Zoro’s casual use of the cook’s name. “I was pretty distracted when he first joined the crew since I was in the middle of fighting Mihawk, and then there was all that stuff with Arlong, and…well, I realize now that I don’t know much about his life before he became a pirate. You met his family at the Baratie, right? Can you tell me about them?”

“If you want to know, why don’t you just ask Sanji?” he replied as though it were obvious.

“I can’t. He’s…I think something’s been going on with him—something that’s probably been on his mind for a while. I don’t think he’ll talk to me about it if I ask.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want you to know about his past. That’s okay. That kind of stuff doesn’t matter,” Luffy said firmly. He smiled brightly and offered Zoro a curt nod as if the conversation had run its course. The swordsman just sighed and let the younger man be. He should have known that this would be Luffy’s reaction to him prying into the private life of one of their crewmates. Usually, Zoro would agree with him—the past was the past, and it didn’t necessarily define a person or the way they lived their life in the present—but this time, he was doubtful because of the cook’s strange behaviour.  

“Oi, Nami.”

The navigator looked up in surprise when the swordsman’s voice accompanied the knock at her door. She set her map aside and called for him to come in, wondering what could have caused Zoro of all people to seek her out. He opened the door and tentatively stepped into her workspace, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that told her he was uncomfortable with whatever he had come to say.

“Well, this is certainly unusual. What can I do for you, Zoro?”

“Can you tell me what you know about the cook’s family at the Baratie?” he asked quickly, cheeks red.

Nami blinked in surprise. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been an inquiry about Sanji’s history. She knew that the swordsman and cook had formed some sort of relationship behind closed doors, and with the way they’d been acting recently, she figured that they had decided to make it more public, but for Zoro to come to _her_ asking something like that was a little suspicious.

“Trouble in paradise?” she commented idly. “I assume there’s a good reason for why you’re coming to me instead of asking him yourself. Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just…following my instincts. Something is really bothering him that has to do with where he came from, but I honestly don’t know anything about his past.”

“And you want me to tell you everything I know? Hmm…I should probably charge you for this since it would go against my moral code to reveal personal information about Sanji-kun without his permission. How does 1000 berries sound?”

“Dammit, witch! I don’t have any money to give you. I’m just trying to help him—are you really gonna charge me for that?”

She propped an elbow on her desk and leaned a cheek against her hand, regarding the swordsman carefully. “Oh, alright. I guess I can tell you if it’s for his own good, but I don’t know that much myself. Sanji has always been a very private man when it came to his past. When I asked him about his life before he came aboard, he only told me that Zeff had somehow saved his life when he was shipwrecked at eight-years-old. The old man was a pirate, but he lost his leg during the rescue and decided to retire to start his own restaurant. He taught Sanji how to cook and passed on his fighting style—I got the sense that Zeff became a father figure to him. I’ve never heard anything about his real family or where he lived before the shipwreck, although I remember Sanji saying that he was from the North Blue when we were back on Jaya.”

“The North Blue is on the opposite side of the Red Line from where we found him. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?” Zoro commented.

Nami shrugged and waved her hand flippantly. “It’s his business if he wants to keep his past a secret. I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said, echoing Luffy’s opinion on their nakama’s mysterious origins.

Zoro muttered his acquiescence and excused himself, feeling like he really hadn’t accomplished anything by prying into Sanji’s life indirectly. If he really wanted answers, it looked like he would have to get them from the cook himself. The problem was that Sanji seemed to be avoiding him, or at least, if he wasn’t then he was always coincidentally in the middle of something important and could only spare a second for quick exchanges to keep the kiss count consistent.

It was pretty much confirmed when the cook offered to do multiple night-watches in a row in order to avoid sharing the new bunk with the swordsman. Zoro really began to worry as they approached the final kisses out of the 100, because no matter what he did to engage Sanji’s attention, the other man only seemed to grow more and more distant. When they shared kiss number 99, the cook barely reacted.

“There,” he said simply. “Now you can hunt down some random pirate scumbag and be rid of this stupid curse. Congrats, moss-head, you’re almost off the hook.”

“Y-yeah. Thanks for helping me get this far, Cook.”

“Sure,” he replied with a stiff smile. Zoro watched him walk away, feeling confused and dejected.

***

The swordsman confronted him immediately after dinner on the deck of the Sunny. Sanji was taking a much needed smoke-break after the enormous dinner he’d cooked. It was the last day before the log pose set, and then they would be able to set sail and continue their adventure without having to worry about Zoro’s condition. If the swordsman could find a suitable recipient to pass the curse onto, they would be able to leave the island of Delos by tomorrow. Sanji had spent hours in the galley whipping up a small feast under the pretense of celebrating the end of Zoro’s curse, but he had really been avoiding the swordsman again.

He was pathetic. It had been eleven years, and he still couldn’t face his past, let alone talk about it with the person he was closest to. Zoro had opened up to him about Kuina, as had most of the members of the crew with regard to their respective backstories, but Sanji was still too big a coward to delve into his past. _Why is it so fucking hard?!_ he thought, puffing away at his cigarette in frustration. _I haven’t heard from them in all this time—they can’t hurt me anymore. So why won’t my mind accept it?_

The fear he’d felt—all of the torment and anguish he’d endured as a child—he remembered it vividly, and it haunted him. A part of him would always be afraid that his past would catch up to him, just as Robin’s had, and then his nakama would be dragged into it like at Enies Lobby. The feeling of powerlessness, which had been instilled in him from the day it became clear that he was the black sheep in a family of wolves, still affected him even now. Sanji wasn’t confident that he would be able to protect himself if the Vinsmokes ever came for him, so it was logical that he should warn his crewmates before that happened.

His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms encircling his waist. He yelped in surprise, nearly dropping his cigarette in the ocean before realizing that it was Zoro. “What do you want, marimo? I was trying to smoke.”

“You were staring off into the horizon with that brooding gaze that pisses me off.”

“And your reaction to that was to sneak up and hug me from behind?”

“You looked like you needed it. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sanji grunted, wishing that he could deny it, but the swordsman had caught him when he was so deep in thought that he genuinely hadn’t noticed him approach. He melted into the other man’s embrace without a second thought and couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. Zoro held him close as the cook leaned against the railing, resting his chin on the blond’s shoulder and pressing a soft kiss into the side of his neck.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, Cook?” he murmured. “I think I know what this is about. There’s something you’re not telling us…about your real family, right?”

Sanji went rigid in his arms, panic welling inside of him. He knew that Zoro had just presented him with the perfect opportunity to come clean and explain why he’d been so withdrawn lately—he could tell him right now, and then the swordsman would understand why it was so difficult for Sanji to accept his love. The only love he’d ever known was the tender affection of a mother who’d been taken from him too soon, and the love between him and his adopted family at the Baratie, which had only been expressed through violence. Zeff had taught him to respect women, and Sanji had made it his principle to show every woman the same kind of love because if he treated them all the same then he would never have to admit that he didn’t really know what love was. Even the love he felt for his nakama was muted by the constant fear that he wasn’t good enough—that his life, even his dream, was worth less in comparison.

Sanji felt the other man's embrace tighten and knew that Zoro loved him—he could feel it in the swordsman’s aura as it encompassed them both, and the pressure of it seemed to take his breath away. He felt his panic growing, and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. Negative thoughts began to flit through his mind like a swarm of fish: 

 _I don’t deserve this. What did I ever do to make him love me? Why would he choose me when all I’ve done is treat him like shit? How can he want me? He’s going to be the world’s greatest swordsman, and I’m going to spend my life chasing after an impossible dream. I’m not strong enough to stand beside him—Thriller Bark proved that. I can’t measure up to my siblings when my body is so much weaker than theirs—it’s going to fail me one day, and I’m going to fail_ them… _my nakama._   

It had been years since Sanji had had a panic attack, but he still recognized the telltale signs that he was about to succumb to his anxiety. Without thinking, he pushed back against Zoro to break his hold and separate them, hands shaking as he gripped the railing and willed himself to keep it together. If he just shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, it would go away.

“Sanji?” Zoro asked concernedly, laying a hand on the cook’s shoulder as if to steady him.

He reflexively shook off the swordsman’s touch and said, “Just...leave me alone.”

There was a moment of silence in which Zoro stared at the smaller man’s trembling frame, contemplating his next words. “I don’t want to do that,” he said finally. “I want to help…whatever it is…I just need you to tell me.”

“You _can’t_ help, idiot-swordsman!” the cook snapped, but what he meant was that Zoro shouldn’t have to because Sanji should be able to deal with his own issues and let go of his past. He felt the weight of the other man’s presence like a blanket that was slowly smothering him, but he was too weak to fight against it. “Just mind your own damn business! I’m not obligated to tell you anything—I’m not your fucking boyfriend!” he growled, reverting to self-destructive retorts in the unconscious attempt to discourage the swordsman from pressing him on the issue.

Suddenly, Zoro gripped the blond by his elbow and spun him around to face him. Gentle fingers brushed across the cook’s cheeks as the swordsman wiped away tears that he hadn’t even realized he'd shed.

“You’re nakama,” he said firmly.

Sanji just stared at him, surprised that Zoro didn’t seem to be angry. _He should be,_ Sanji thought. _I’m acting like a complete asshole and hurting him just like I was afraid of doing in the first place. I’m such a stupid piece of shit! Why did I ever let myself get involved with him when I was inevitably going to ruin it?_

The swordsman must have been able to sense Sanji’s internal dilemma because his eyes softened as he looked at the cook’s pale face, reaching out to lightly grip his shoulders. In one abrupt movement, he darted forward and gently kissed Sanji’s cheek just as he had in the first hotel room before they’d known how the curse worked. He dropped his head onto the blond’s shoulder and sighed heavily.

“I don’t want to pass this curse onto you, or I would have shut you up already. I know what you’re trying to do, Sanji. You want to push me away.”

“I—”

“Shut _up,_ stupid-cook!” he growled, pulling the other man into a tight embrace. Sanji just let himself be manhandled, dumbfounded by Zoro’s frantic actions. “I’m not gonna let you self-destruct over this. I’m going into town to get rid of this stupid curse, and then we’re heading out to sea. You’re going to tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours even if I have to tie you down and fuck it out of you.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sanji felt himself blush at the mental images this statement provoked. It had been a few days since he’d had any release, after all, and he was no less attracted to the swordsman than he had been before these poisonous thoughts had caused his doubts to fester. Just when he thought that the combination of dirty thoughts and intimate contact was going to lead to a very awkward situation, Zoro stepped back and held him at an arm's length, staring at him expectantly.

Sanji sighed in defeat and shot him a small grin. “Is that a promise, marimo?”

“Damn straight it is.”

***

That evening, the cook let Luffy take over the night watch that Sanji had been covering the past few days. Zoro’s heartfelt words from earlier were still replaying in his mind, and his insecurities had been partly subdued by the swordsman’s obvious sincerity. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell Zoro the whole story about his true identity and the family he had left behind, but the cook had been pleasantly surprised to discover that he missed the swordsman’s company too much to maintain his aloof charade.

So he waited up as long as he could, occupying himself with cleaning the galley and finishing all of the dishes from their earlier feast. When the night dragged on well past midnight, and the swordsman still hadn’t returned, he began to worry that Zoro hadn’t been able to find someone to take the curse from him. The small nagging part of his brain that always presented him with the worst-case scenario was even more worried that perhaps he _had_ found a man—could it be that Zoro was with him right now, having been offered more than a kiss?

Sanji violently shoved the thought away. _Why the hell am I acting like a scorned lover just because he stayed out late?_ the cook thought, disappointed in himself for even thinking that the swordsman would do such a thing. Although they had never discussed being exclusive to one another, Zoro had implied that it was his intention to be monogamous when he'd first asked the cook to help him with the curse. Even so, Sanji made a mental note to confirm this whenever the directionally challenged idiot made it back to the ship. For the first time, he actually hoped that the marimo _had_ gotten lost because he couldn’t help but think that the only other reason the swordsman hadn’t returned yet was if something terrible had happened to prevent him.  


	14. All You Need is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "All You Need is Love" by The Beatles

Zoro had left the ship to find a suitable recipient for the curse and had ended up in quite the predicament. He was currently chained to a rather uncomfortable metal chair, and his swords were nowhere in sight—not that he thought he could use them properly with the curse in effect. His body had felt absolutely ravaged ever since he’d entered this building, which didn’t make any sense because he’d kissed the cook less than twenty-four hours ago. The symptoms had never been so bad on the first day, but Zoro swore that his limbs were being crushed by the weight of these regular old chains. Everything hurt—even his damn eyeballs—and although he was good at dealing with physical pain, his mind was also under the effects of the curse and was slowly beginning to lose focus. 

He tried desperately to remember how he’d gotten here, or rather, how he’d gotten into this damn chair. The swordsman remembered exactly how he’d gotten _here_ —he’d followed the redhead from the bar. It had seemed like the perfect situation when he’d been approached by that asshole. The man had actually tried to apologize for his earlier behaviour when he’d taken Sanji’s seat and started running his mouth about the blond. He'd claimed that he was beyond drunk and hadn’t recognized them, but it had obviously been a mistake to pick a fight with a famous pair of pirates.

Zoro had gladly accepted his phony apology because it meant that he could have a drink with the man and pass the curse onto him when the opportunity presented itself. The honorable swordsman didn’t exactly feel good about it, but the reality was that he would die if he didn’t kiss somebody within the next 100 hours, and he still had a dream to achieve, after all. So he’d gotten a drink with him, and then had a few more, until his redheaded partner had shot him a coy smile and asked if Zoro wanted to come back to his place.

Like an idiot, he had agreed. Sometime during the walk, he’d started to feel the familiar creeping sensation of weakness in his body, which had quickly begun to worsen the longer he was on his feet. By the time they’d gotten to the other man’s house, Zoro had been practically swaying in fatigue. He'd tried to play it off as drunkenness, collapsing into a chair the second he’d been shown inside, but that had been a plush armchair in the corner of the red-haired man’s living room. Somehow, he’d ended up chained to a different chair in what he assumed was an unfinished basement judging by the blank, unpainted cement walls (that were, unfortunately, lacking any windows), yet he didn’t remember leaving the living room or even losing consciousness. The last thing he’d felt was the gentle touch of a slender hand resting on his shoulder from behind.

He took a moment to try and get his bearings, assessing his body for any abnormalities that weren’t the result of the curse, but there was nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could tell—the only exception being the inexplicable weakness, which he should've only be experiencing if a few days had passed. Perhaps he really _had_ lost more time than he'd thought…

He was pulled from his musings by the sound of a heavy door opening behind him, and his observation haki informed him of two auras entering the room. One seemed to belong to the redheaded man who’d brought him here, which was confirmed when the bastard walked around to Zoro's front, arm in arm with a thin man in a dark cloak. The two of them stopped to face the swordsman in silence until the stranger slowly pulled down his hood and said, “I knew you would be able to get him here, my love.”

His voice was soft and youthful—it didn’t match the face he revealed, which was lined with age and framed by silky strands of pure-white hair. His eyes were a bright, piercing blue that immediately captured Zoro’s gaze and held it with intensity. He regarded the swordsman thoughtfully as his partner grasped his hand and held it lovingly to his chest.

“Of course, darling. This will all be over soon. I wasn’t about to let one man stand in the way of your freedom—pirate or not,” the redhead told him. His eyes never left the other man’s face, and his expression was so full of love and adoration that Zoro almost looked away because he felt like he was intruding on a private moment. The two were clearly a couple, and although Zoro wasn’t one to judge others on their choices, he couldn't help but wonder how these two people had come together with such an obvious age difference between them. The redhead couldn’t have been much older than Zoro was, but his lover appeared to be somewhere in his sixties if his hair and wrinkles were anything to go by.

“Who the hell are you people?” he asked, turning an accusing glare on the man he’d followed here.

“I suppose we forgot to exchange names at the bar. I’m Naru—pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Roronoa Zoro—and I’m afraid I can’t say the same given the circumstances,” he growled.

The elder man seemed to sense the growing tension between them and quickly intervened. “Please, there’s no need for us to be enemies. My name is Malec. My husband and I mean you no harm—we just ask for your cooperation.”

“Cooperation with what exactly? You have me tied to a fucking chair, so there’d better be a good explanation—and where the hell are my swords? I’ll kick your ass if anything happened to them.”

“Your swords are safe,” the white-haired Malec reassured him quickly. “I’m very sorry that you had to wake up in this situation, but you _are_ a notoriously wanted man, Pirate Hunter Zoro, so for our own safety, we restrained you to ensure that you would listen to us.”

“Smart move. Now tell me what’s going on. How long have I been here? My crew will be looking for their first mate, and trust me, you don’t want to be here when they find me.”

“It’s only been a few hours since we left the bar,” the redhead called Naru told him. “My husband manipulated your curse to put you to sleep so we could move you. You’re still in the house that I brought you to, but we don’t actually live here. The owners are away on vacation at a neighboring island—I know that because we’re both _from_ that island. I believe you’re familiar with Loa?”

“If you know about my curse then it’s probably safe to assume that I’ve been there. How you know or why you care is a mystery to me, but I’m more curious about how he could put me to sleep. What did you mean when you said he manipulated my curse?” Zoro asked while subtly straining against his bonds to test their strength. It was no use trying to break them in his condition, but he still felt that he ought to try.

“It might be referred to as a curse, but that isn’t quite accurate,” Malec explained. “It’s actually the manipulation of life force—I’m an energy human who ate the life-life devil fruit. I have the power to give and take away a person’s life force. When you became ‘cursed’ by this power, our auras were connected. The curse becomes stronger when you are near me, and close contact allows me to control your energy levels, which is how I was able to speed up the debilitating effects by several days. I am also able to put you to sleep with a simple touch.”

“How lucky for you,” Zoro replied sarcastically, “because there’s no way that either of you jokers could’ve taken me hostage if I were awake.”

“I’m not trying to antagonise you, Mr. Pirate. I simply want you to understand our situation. I’m sure you are wondering why my appearance is such a contrast to my husband’s.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Oh, but it is. I’ll have you know that I’m twenty-six.”

“I don’t care how old you are. What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything. Tell me, have you heard the origin story of Amara’s ‘curse’?”

Zoro nodded and had to blink away black spots that clouded his vision with the motion. He could tell that his energy was becoming dangerously low, and if he didn’t do something soon then he wouldn’t be able to anything besides sit here at the mercy of these men. As Malec continued his explanation, the swordsman began to gather up whatever mental strength he had left to condense his haki. If he could just expand it in a big enough burst, someone with the power of observation might be able to sense his location from a distance.

“Amara was the high priestess of Loa, the island where I grew up, and she was also the previous user of the life-life fruit. Even after her death at the hands of the angry villagers, the tradition of selecting a spiritual leader has continued to this day. I am the current high priest, who happened to find the reincarnation of her devil fruit.”

“Oh, I see. I’m so sorry I didn’t address you with the proper honorific,” Zoro snapped uncaringly.

Naru’s red eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but he kept his mouth shut while his husband resumed his story. “After Amara’s death, the so-called ‘curses’ that she created with her devil fruit powers went into remission, but the conditions she'd set to regulate the exchange of life energy comes with a terrible price for the new user—once someone eats the reincarnated fruit, their life becomes tied to the old ‘curses’ when they reawaken.”

“My husband ate that fruit ten years ago when he was just sixteen,” Naru cut in emphatically. “Ever since then, his lifespan has been slowly shortening as his energy was drained each time Amara’s curses affected someone. We’ve been able to track down most of them over the years and break their connection to him, but the worst is still in effect.”

“The Curse of 100 Kisses,” Malec stated. “Its power far surpasses any of the others, and it has killed many. I have always been able to feel it, like a dark cloud following me wherever I go, and it has become quite taxing in recent years. Before people discovered how it worked, men would always die, and I would receive their life energy, but it's been years since the curse has killed, and instead, I feel my own energy replenishing theirs whenever they kiss someone. Years of this endless cycle has taken an incredible toll, as you can see. We have never been able to catch the curse before it was passed on to someone else.”

“Sometimes the curse would be taken to another island, making the search even more difficult with Malec’s poor physical condition. It became impossible for him to travel safely on the Grand Line, so we had to wait for an opportunity to take the curse from someone on Loa. Then the man named Logan caught it from a pirate, and he began dressing as a woman to manage the curse’s effects. I was _right there_ when he was about to reach his one-hundredth kiss, but your idiot crewmate stole it from me!”

“Why did you have to be such a dick to him? It wasn’t his fault—how the hell was he supposed to know what would happen?”

“I was pretending to be a pirate so that I could take it from him!” Naru snapped angrily.

“I don’t understand why you would even want this curse, but I'm the one who has it now, and I certainly don’t want to die from it. I was going to give it to you anyway—that’s why I was talking to an asshole like you in the first place. All of this wasn’t even necessary. Just take it if you want it, and let me the fuck out of here!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, but there’s a limit to the time between kisses. I have to keep you here until you reach one-hundred.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Zoro asked uncomprehendingly. “I was already at 99 when I met you at the bar. Kiss me and get it over with!”

This statement was met with surprised silence, which seemed to fill the entire room and weigh down everything in it. Zoro swore he could feel the pressure of the air on his skin, and his vision was swimming with the constant effort of controlling his haki. He was almost at his limit, and then he would let it all out in the hopes that one of his nakama would notice the burst of energy.

“You…you can’t have been at 99. I already kissed you multiple times while you were asleep—that alone can sometimes cause the curse to transfer—but it didn’t work. You must have counted wrong,” Naru said furiously. He took a threatening step forward in his denial, but Malec placed his hand on his husband’s arm in a silent gesture to restrain him. “Don’t fuck around with me, pirate! I need to take that curse so we can break it—true love is the only way! We’ve been married for three years—I know we can do it. If we don’t then my husband will—”

“Calm down, Naru! Why would he lie? Something’s wrong. I can feel that he’s still connected to me, which means that he hasn’t passed it on yet, but it feels different. It’s almost like he’s subconsciously rejecting me without realizing it. I think he’s rejecting you, too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zoro interrupted. “Have him kiss me again. I’m fully conscious—it should work.” He didn’t understand why the curse hadn’t been passed on. If what Naru was saying was true, then kissing him in his sleep should've caused it to transfer like it had when Zoro had first kissed Sanji. “Just do it before I change my mind!”

With the permission of his husband, Naru cautiously approached the restrained swordsman and bent down to his level. Zoro closed his eyes at the unwanted press of lips and forced himself to respond appropriately. It felt weird, and completely  _wrong,_ kissing a man who wasn’t the cook. He missed Sanji’s chin scruff, and the insistent pressure of the blond man’s tongue prying open his lips, but he knew that he could end this whole mess and go back to his lover if he just gave in and let the redhead take the curse from him. That had been the original plan anyways, and even though Naru had acted like a bastard while pretending to be a pirate, Zoro instinctively knew that he wasn’t a bad person. He just wanted to save his lover from an early death, and Sanji had unwittingly ruined that by kissing ‘Lola’—no wonder the other man seemed to hate the cook so much.

Naru pulled away with a jerk, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looked down at the green-haired man. Zoro had been expecting the familiar sensation of revitalising energy flooding through his aching limbs, but there had been nothing—no replenishment of his energy at the touch of the other man’s lips—and it appeared as though Naru had also experienced a similar lack of effect.

“You fucking lied to me, Roronoa!”

“No, I didn’t! I only kiss the cook, and we’ve been keeping careful track. How the hell could I mess up something so important and risk giving this curse back to my nakama?” he argued, dumbstruck.

“Nakama?” Malec repeated curiously. “This person who’s been helping you with the curse…what exactly is he to you?”

“I just told you. He’s my nakama. His name is Sanji—he’s the cook on our crew.”

The white-haired man paused to think about this response, shuffling forward to stand beside his husband and look Zoro in the eye searchingly. One slender hand reached out to take the swordsman’s chin in his feeble grip, forcing him to hold his gaze. “How do you really feel about Sanji? Tell me the truth, swordsman…do you love him?”

“Yes,” Zoro answered without hesitation.

“How much do you love him?”

“With everything I have.”

“And does he love you?”

The question caused Zoro to pause. He didn’t really know what Sanji thought of him, or how far the cook had progressed past the point of purely physical attraction for the swordsman, but there were two things that he was certain about.

“He cares for me…but he doesn’t love me enough to have broken the curse, obviously.” Even to himself, his voice sounded hollow, and Malec seemed to pick up on his obvious disappointment at having to admit this.

“Even if he doesn’t return your affection, you still chose him.”

“I did. What does it matter?” the swordsman asked tiredly. He let his head fall forwards because he no longer had enough energy to spare on working the muscles in his neck. All of his effort was currently concentrated on gathering his haki in the center of his chest and compressing it like a miniature bomb.

The last thing he heard before he let it all out was Malec’s soothing voice saying, “It matters because it seems that he is the only person whose kiss you will accept. Sanji is the only one who can save you now.”


	15. Stairway to Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin

The cook had been chain-smoking for hours, nearly exhausting his resources of cigarettes while he absently puffed away on the deck of the Sunny and stared at the distant lights from the town. Luffy had kicked him out of the crow’s nest when he wouldn’t stop worrying aloud about Zoro’s whereabouts—true to his nature, the Straw Hat captain had faith that their swordsman would make it back alright, just as he had countless times before, but Sanji still had his doubts.

Those doubts were confirmed when Zoro’s aura suddenly exploded in the residential area like a beacon. Unlike the other times when the blond had felt similar surges of energy from the swordsman, there was none of the familiar killing intent emanating from Zoro’s location. He knew that it wasn’t for lack of power, since Sanji was sure that even a weak haki user would be able to sense this great of a disturbance, and he instinctively understood its intent.

It was a cry for help.

Wherever he was, Zoro wanted them to find him, which could only mean that he wasn’t able to get back to the ship. Goosebumps rose along every inch of the cook’s arms as he gripped the wooden railing and focused his own haki on narrowing down the location of the surge. He didn’t want to believe that someone as reliable as Zoro had gotten himself into serious trouble, but the reality was that his life force seemed to have declined a considerable amount despite them having kissed only a few hours ago. If the curse hadn’t been passed on yet, that would mean that there was still a chance it could kill the swordsman. According to Robin’s research, his death would cause the curse to be transferred back to the last person it had affected—Sanji couldn’t even imagine having to deal with the curse again if Zoro were to die.

“What has that idiot been _doing?_ ” he muttered to himself, forcing his thoughts away from such morbid speculation. “Did he seriously let himself get into a situation where he can’t even make it back here?”

He wouldn’t let himself think of anything worse that could have prevented him. It was clear that Zoro was going to need help—and fast. A loud thump from behind Sanji told him that Luffy had dropped onto the deck from the crow’s nest. The rubber captain was at his side in seconds, eyes trained on the same cluster of houses in the distance.

“You felt it too, huh?” Sanji asked him.

Luffy nodded seriously, setting his straw hat firmly on his head. “We gotta find Zoro.”

“Do you think we have time to wake up the crew? I don’t know what we’ll be walking into, but with our luck, he’s been captured by some fucking marines or something while he’s weakened.”

“You and I should be more than enough to handle anything we find, but I’m gonna get Usopp to take over my watch while we’re gone,” Luffy decided, spinning on his heel and sprinting to the men’s dorms. He returned in less than a minute, dragging one very confused, half-asleep Usopp by his long nose. The sniper still had his blanket wrapped around him, which was tripping them both up as they stumbled haphazardly into the railing next to Sanji.        

“Ow! Goddammit Luffy, that hurts! What the hell are you doing—it’s the middle of the night!” Usopp screeched, rubbing his abused nose with an irritated scowl. “If I don’t get enough sleep, I’ll be too tired to restrain my inner Captain Usopp—he could possess me during the day and stage a coup, and then the Usopp Pirates might end up conquering the Grand Line before you do, and I’ll be the next King of the Pirates!”

“Quit your whining, long-nose—Zoro’s in trouble,” Sanji snapped impatiently.

“He is?! Then I, THE GREAT CAPTAIN USOPP, will use my immeasurable knowledge and expertise to—”

“—finish my night-watch while Sanji and I rescue him? Thanks Usopp!”

“Eh?! But—”

“We don’t have time to waste—the curse might still be draining him. If we aren’t back in an hour, get Robin to find us with her devil fruit powers in case we need backup and have Nami prepare everyone to set sail—and you’d better apologize for waking those beautiful ladies up so late at night!” Sanji barked, hopping over the railing without another word. He didn’t even look back to see if Luffy was following him.

“Jeez, he’s really worked up,” Usopp commented as he watched the cook’s mad dash towards the town.

“Shishishi! Of course he is! He’s worried about Zoro.”

“I’ll never understand those two,” the sniper sighed, shaking his head.

“What’s to understand? They love each other,” Luffy said simply.

“You really think so? I know that Zoro’s always been obsessed with him, especially when Sanji goes crazy for women, but now _that_ lady-killer is willingly reciprocating? It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

Luffy just shrugged, hopping into a crouch on the ship’s railing. “Pirates don’t know the meaning of the word ‘impossible’—those two least of all.”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about _love_ here, and…and you’re already gone. I’ll just say goodbye to myself then.”

***

By the time Luffy caught up to the cook, they had already reached the part of town where Zoro’s aura had surged. It had been too difficult to pinpoint the exact building from the deck of the ship, but they were fairly certain that the swordsman had to be somewhere on this block.

“Running here took more time than I thought. See if you can sense him with your haki, Luffy.”

“Me? But I’m not as good as you are at reading people, and you and Zoro have a special connection.”

“Wha—w-we do _not!_ What are you talking about?!” Sanji said, flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh, come on. You don’t really believe that nobody on the crew has heard you two _connecting,_ do you? Brook even wrote a song about it.”

The blond stopped in his tracks, mouth working to form some sort of coherent reply as his captain’s suggestive words prompted an even more aggressive blush. “That’s…b-but you…NO! You are a simple-minded man-child. We are definitely  _not_ having this conversation, you did _not_ just imply what I think you’re implying, and there are NO GODDAMN SONGS ABOUT MY SEX-LIFE WITH THAT IDIOT-SWORDSMAN—NOPE! I am going to concentrate on my observation haki now and forget this ever happened!” he sputtered, mortified.

Luffy laughed and pat Sanji on the shoulder as if he hadn’t just casually destroyed the cook’s entire perspective of his captain’s innocent, child-like nature. It took a considerable amount of time for the cook to collect himself after hearing _that_ from the naive nineteen-year-old’s mouth, but he eventually cleared his mind enough to extend the reach of his perception to the surrounding buildings. The remaining energy was faint, and growing more so by the second, but there was something so quintessentially _Zoro_ about it that the Sanji was able to distinguish his nakama’s aura from the rest of the sleeping villagers’.  

“It’s that one. I can sense that he’s underground with two other people—probably in the basement.”

“Yosh! Let’s kick their asses and take him back to the Sunny!” Luffy announced, following Sanji towards the front door. The cook didn’t even pause to consider his lack of propriety as he leaned back and kicked the door off its hinges with one blow. It crashed noisily into the dark interior, but nobody came to check on the disturbance in the silence that followed. Sanji went in first, quickly scanning the entryway for any sign of Zoro even though he could still feel the other man’s presence below his feet. He immediately noticed the three swords, which had been discarded in the corner of what appeared to be a normal, unassuming living room, and hastened to collect them in his arms.

“Mmphf! Hey, what gives?! Sanji, how did you get inside?” Luffy asked, following the sound of rubber bouncing off something solid. He had attempted to enter the house but had run smack into an invisible barrier preventing him from stepping over the threshold. “Oi! Let me in!”  

Sanji retraced his steps and saw his captain desperately trying to force his way inside, but he only succeeding in comically squishing his face as though he had walked straight into a glass wall. No matter how much force they used, the rubber man couldn’t step one foot into the house, and there was no time to figure out a better solution with Zoro’s aura still fading fast.    

“I’ll wait out here while you find him. I don’t want my first mate to die, so hurry!” Luffy ordered.

“Dammit—but what if he’s in no condition to fight, and I’m not able to deal with whatever threat is down there?”

“You can do it! You’re Blackleg Sanji! Even if he was being held captive by a beautiful woman, you’d still find a way to save him, wouldn’t you? The two of you have always stepped up to do the impossible. This time will be no different,” Luffy told him, his smile brimming with confidence. “You’re the fighting cook from the crew of the future King of the Pirates!”

“Is that so?” a voice interrupted. “What an honor this must be for me then.”

Sanji whipped around to face the person who had snuck up on him while he’d been distracted. A quick assessment told him that one of the auras he’d sensed downstairs belonged to this man, who had evidently come to see how his door had gotten blown in.

“Who the hell are you?! Where’s Zoro?” Sanji demanded, taking one threatening step forward. The other man let out a deep chuckle and mimicked the cook’s single step, placing himself in the square of light pouring in from outside.

“My, you’re just as uncouth as I remember you.”

The blond flinched as if the man had hit him, mostly because he _did_ recognize the bastard, but also because the redheaded punk had just dared to call Blackleg Sanji _uncouth!_

“You…motherfucking— _how about I shove my shoe so far up your ass you’ll be able to taste the refined leather?!”_ he yelled furiously, intent on doing exactly that. “Luffy, hold Zoro’s swords,” he growled, turning back to quickly shove the three wooden saya into the safety of their captain’s rubber arms.       

“It's obvious by your violent response that you've come here expecting a fight, but what if I told you that my husband is with your crewmate right now, and he is in no immediate danger?”

“I’d ask you to step aside so I can see him.”

“He and Malec are busy at the moment…We wouldn’t want to _interrupt_ them, would we?”

The redhead accompanied this statement with an infuriating smirk that was clearly meant to bait the cook with its suggestive implications, and Sanji discovered that it was working exactly as intended. He could feel himself filling with rage, terrifyingly fast, until he was nearly bursting into flames at the _thought_ of these bastards laying a finger on his swordsman. A memory of the redheaded man sliding onto the cook’s bar-stool all those nights ago was fueling his possessive instincts—he was too angry to even think about other possible reasons why these men might want Zoro besides what the bastard was implying.

He didn’t spare another thought on it before throwing himself into the fight, feet blazing.

***

“What was that noise?” Malec wondered allowed. The three men waited to see if it would continue, but there was only silence.

“It sounded like a door being kicked in,” Zoro remarked with a small smile. He was still recovering from using his haki, so the words were quiet and forced, but he managed to lift his head enough to send a challenging glare at Naru. “I hope you can hold your own in a fight, carrot-top—looks like my crewmates are here.”

“Of course I can. I’ve spent years honing my skills to protect Malec from any threat. His devil fruit abilities aren’t exactly suited for combat, so I’ve had to be his arms and legs whenever pirates like you tried to take advantage of his abilities when he was weakened,” the redhead explained.

“Don’t underestimate my nakama. The Straw Hats aren’t like any band of common pirates,” Zoro insisted.

“We’ll see about that. Put him under while I take care of our intruders,” Naru said to his husband. He flashed a smug grin at the swordsman as he walked past, slamming the door behind him.

“Oi, what the hell are you gonna do?” Zoro asked warily. Malec had followed the redhead out of his line of sight and placed a frail hand on the captured man’s shoulder.

“This will only hurt your heart,” he informed him solemnly, activating his ability.

Zoro immediately wanted to call the white-haired man a liar because his body was suddenly wracked with such incredible weakness that it rivaled any of the previous effects he’d experienced, but true to his word, it didn’t actually hurt—it just drained every ounce of fight out of him. The swordsman didn’t think he’d ever been depressed, but he could imagine that it would probably feel something like this. All at once, he lost the will to even _hope_ that he would be saved. His thoughts spiraled into melancholy until a part of him actually wished for this to all be over, not just his kidnapping or the situation with the curse, but everything that he had to put any effort into—his swordsmanship, his relationship with the cook, even his adventures with Luffy and the crew. It all seemed like a never-ending struggle, and he was just so… _tired_.

 _What the hell…am I doing?_ he wondered. His vision had started to swim again, and he suddenly couldn’t remember where he was. _I should…go to sleep. It would be nice to just…lay down in a field of flowers and fall into an eternal slumber...like in the Wizard of Oz,_  he thought groggily—hadn’t Sanji mentioned something like that?

... _Cook…I_ _can’t...I can’t go to sleep without the cook..._

Zoro opened his eyes—he hadn’t realized he’d closed them—and suddenly Sanji was in the room with him. He didn’t recall hearing Naru return, but there he was standing beside the cook, who was leaning heavily against his shoulder. Naru seemed to be supporting him; his red hair tangled with the blond’s, blending into orange—or was that… _blood?_ It took the swordsman a moment to comprehend what he was seeing, and when he did, his eyes widened in disbelief.

Sanji was bleeding from his neck. The bright red liquid poured from a deep gash just below his Adam’s apple, staining both of their shirts. Naru shifted the cook’s weight against him, causing Sanji’s head to loll grotesquely, his eyes wide and unseeing. For a moment, they seemed to catch sight of the swordsman where he was strapped to the chair, and his mouth moved to form one last word.

“Zo…ro…”

“Sanji!” The swordsman heard himself speak before deciding to, and it sounded like the panicked exclamation of a dying man even though it was the cook who was dying right in front of him. He swore he could feel his heart constricting in his chest, or perhaps it was his lungs because he suddenly couldn’t seem to breathe. All of his senses were dulled and fuzzy except for the crushing sadness threatening to engulf him entirely. “What…what did you do to him?!” he choked out even though the question was redundant—he could  _see_ what Naru had done to him, and it made panic well inside him like nothing he'd ever felt before. 

“He put up a good fight, but he was no match for me,” Naru explained with another smug grin. He shifted again, shouldering Sanji’s body away from him. Without his support, the cook crashed into the floor at Zoro’s feet, smearing blood across the grey cement. It pooled under his chest as he lay still, face turned up so that the swordsman could see the remaining light leave his eyes. The blond gave one final twitch, as though he were trying to reach out and touch Zoro, but his hand only made it halfway before dropping into the puddle of blood with a wet smack where it remained motionless.

Zoro felt a sick sense of familiarity creep over him while observing the scene. It was like he was seven years old again, staring down at the covered face of his childhood rival. There had been nothing he could do—no way to turn back time and stop her from going down that flight of stairs. He’d been unable to save Kuina, and now he was reliving that feeling of powerlessness when he should have been there to save the cook. He wasn’t a little kid anymore, but he was just as helpless. It was a cruel, cruel irony—after all the years he’d spent training and perfecting his skills, his strength was useless to him now.

“NO! Sanji! You... _son of a bitch_ —how DARE you?! I’ll fucking kill you both! I’ll—”

“Shh…just calm down, Mr. Swordsman,” Malec whispered from behind. He sounded just as drained as Zoro felt, and his hand was still resting on his captive’s shoulder. Zoro wanted desperately to shake it off, disgusted to be in contact with the person who had helped bring about the cook’s death, but he barely had the strength to even shoot a hateful glare over his shoulder. “You should worry about yourself now. There’s no one left to help you—you’re dying,” the other man reminded him.

“I…I don’t _care!_ ” he snarled viciously. “Just let me die!”

“I’m sorry, but with your lover dead, the curse would simply transfer to the man who originally gave it to him, and I’m sure that Mr. Logan is very far from here by now. I’d be right back where I started, and I’m too tired to continue this endless chase. I just want to be free—you’re a pirate, so you must understand why I long for that freedom. Why don’t we help each other out? Let my husband take this curse away, and I shall restore your strength so you can go back home to your friends,” Malec suggested with a gentle squeeze that Zoro barely felt—his body had gone completely numb.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Sanji’s pale face, so stark against the red backdrop of his lifeblood spreading out beneath him. Despair swallowed the swordsman’s heart, but he refused to look away. He would watch as his own tears of grief slid from his face to mingle with the red liquid pooling at his feet. The man he loved was dead because Zoro had been stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trap, so he absolutely would not let himself look away from what he’d done. 

“There’s…no home without him,” Zoro said finally, “so you’d better find a good crew to take you out to sea because I’m not helping you with _shit._ You can chase this curse to the end of the Grand Line for all I care, but just know that they’ll be a certain man in a straw hat waiting for you—if you even live that long.”

“So you intend to die just to spite us?!” Malec asked angrily, panting slightly from the effort of raising his voice after using so much of his power.

Zoro steeled himself for the spotting of his vision and shook his head. “No, I intend to do it so I can follow him...and...there’s also a girl I wanna see,” he explained, smiling despite himself. “They’ll probably gang up on me and kick my ass for giving up, but…I think it’ll be worth it.”


	16. Dear Future Husband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song: "Dear Future Husband" (Male Version) by Meghan Trainor

Sanji reached the basement with little time to spare. He was sure that the affects of the curse would be nearing the final stages before it took Zoro’s life. He burst into the room, and his eyes immediately locked on to the telltale green of the swordsman’s hair where he was strapped to an old metal chair. He wasn’t moving. For a moment, the cook thought that he wasn’t breathing either, and a wave of nausea rolled over him as he stepped forward to get a better look. If Zoro were really dead…well, he couldn’t even think about what he would do, but he was sure it would involve razing this building to the ground and burying the bodies of his two capturers inside it.

Panic stole his breath as he approached the two men sitting in the middle of the room. One was slumped against the back of Zoro’s chair, leaning heavily against it to support himself. He had white hair and looked old enough to be Sanji’s grandfather, but when he opened his stark-blue eyes and fixed his gaze on the blond pirate, there was a youthfulness in their depths that caused the cook to pause.  

“Is he...dead?” the man asked quietly. He seemed to be preparing himself for a terrible blow, which made Sanji think that he wasn’t talking about Zoro. There was a deep sorrowfulness to his question that demanded the cook’s good nature to answer reassuringly even though this man had restrained his nakama on his deathbed.

“I didn’t kill him. He’s just knocked-out in the living room. That crazy fucker put up a decent fight, too.”

The white-haired man nodded, and a grateful smile pulled at his aged features, which added to the strange youthfulness he seemed to exude. He let out a relieved sigh and relaxed into his seated position as if an incredible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked, utterly drained.

“That depends on the state of my friend there,” Sanji answered instantly.

“Friend?” the man repeated, shaking his head in disapproval. “You probably don’t deserve him.”

Those words cut deep into Sanji’s heart because he couldn’t help but think that they were true. He _didn’t_ deserve Zoro—not only had he let the swordsman go off on his own when the curse was still draining his life away, but the cook had been the one who dragged him into this mess in the first place, and now he’d even been captured by the person whom Sanji had spited himself. The redhaired man hadn’t said much after the blond had attacked him upstairs, but there had been one thing that Sanji picked up on:

 _“It should've been_ me!” he’d growled, catching Sanji off-guard with a complicated series of blows and causing him to retreat a few steps. _“We were going to break the curse and end this for good, but you damn pirates had to show up and ruin everything!_ ”

It seemed that the obnoxious redheaded pirate who'd approached ‘Lola’ had been aware of the curse and its condition for breaking it, but Sanji had stolen the last kiss before he could take the curse himself and return to his lover. That explained why the two men had been after Zoro, and perhaps also why the white-haired man appeared so old and young at the same time.

“You’re connected to this curse somehow,” he voiced aloud.

The other man nodded slowly, seeming to grow more tired by the minute. “It’s…probably going to be the death of me now. I can feel my life force declining as your _friend_ is dying. It took a lot out of me to create the barrier around this house—it prevents anyone from entering who hasn't been touched by my power—and I've also been keeping the swordsman unconscious while doing so. The previous user who ate this devil fruit set the conditions for the exchange of energy that has come to be known as a ‘curse,’ and I’ve spent years trying to combat the effects of its connection to my own life energy. I probably don’t have much more time left than he does.”

“Wake him up,” Sanji ordered, moving forward to crouch in front of the strange man. He had retrieved Zoro’s white katana from Luffy before coming downstairs, and now he whispered an apology for using it without permission, drawing it carefully from its wooden saya. “Do it now, or I’ll run you through with my nakama's precious blade.”

The man looked at him searchingly for a long, painful moment of silence. He seemed to find what he was looking for in Sanji’s expression because he smiled and nodded in acquiescence. “Alright. I won’t be able to fully restore his strength just yet, so prepare yourself for whatever condition he’ll be in. I used my power to manipulate his mental state because I hoped I could convince him to pass on the curse.”

“I don’t understand. He left our ship to do exactly that, so why didn’t he let you guys take it from him?”

“I doubt the choice was up to him—or at least, his mind had little to do with it. I understand that you have been helping him keep it under control.”

“Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?”

The cook didn’t understand what the other man was trying to say, but he figured that it really didn’t matter _why_ Zoro still had the curse because he was running out of time regardless of the reason.

“He loves you quite deeply. I can tell because I understand that sort of love perfectly.”

“I know,” Sanji said quietly, “and I don’t want him to die even if it kills you to bring him back. Now do it before I lose my patience.”

With some assistance from the blond, Malec was able to stand and place his hand on his prisoner's shoulder. He supported himself against the back of the chair while Sanji moved in front of Zoro. He slid Wado’s blade underneath a section of the chains restraining the swordsman and carefully sliced through a weaker link to free him of the bonds. Once they were out of the way, he lay the sword across its owner’s lap and waited for the white-haired man to use his devil fruit ability.         

A moment later, Zoro’s eye opened and immediately locked onto his precious katana. They widened in surprise when his reflexive motion to pick it up wasn’t stopped by the chains, and he lifted it to lovingly inspect the blade for any signs of damage. Then he blinked and focused his gaze on the floor in front of him, gripping Wado’s hilt as if it were his sanity. A change came over his face as he dropped to his knees and reached out to touch the empty air—the cook had the sudden impulse to rub his eyes in case he was hallucinating because Zoro was…he was _crying_. 

“Zoro?” Sanji asked warily, too dumbstruck to think of anything particularly comforting. “What are you looking like that for? You’re alive, lucky bastard.”

Although his tone was friendly, the swordsman trained his gaze on the cook’s face with nothing short of unadulterated hatred. His eyes were wet and unfocused as if he were looking through the cook or at something else entirely. Shock coursed through him as Zoro suddenly sprang from a kneeling position and pressed the sharp edge of his blade against the hollow of Sanji’s throat.

“Wha—what the hell?!” he asked in startled confusion.

“I’m gonna slice open your neck, you fucking bastard. Call it poetic justice—you’ll have matching scars,” the swordsman growled. The complete seriousness in his tone caused the cook to automatically jump into action and bend away from the threat of his nakama's blade. He put some distance between them and shot Zoro a furious glare.

“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, transitioning into a fighting stance in case the green-haired man jumped at him again. He and Zoro were evenly matched whenever they sparred, but if the cook were being honest, he was quite sure that the swordsman was skilled enough to kill him if he fought seriously. Right now, there wasn’t a hint of mercy in the man whom they once called the Demon of the East Blue.

Sanji barely had time to react when Zoro sprang forwards, aiming a vicious slash at his Adam’s apple. He narrowly avoided it by twisting to the side, but the swordsman didn’t even pause before attacking again with deadly precision. The slashes kept coming, catching pieces of Sanji’s shirt, his pants, and even landing a few gashes on his shoulders when he didn’t avoid Zoro’s blade fast enough. Luckily, his attacks were even more predictable than what the cook had come to expect from their previous fights because he seemed to be aiming exclusively for Sanji’s neck.

This was nothing like any of their usual spars—it was clear that Zoro was actually trying to kill him, and he might have been successful if he hadn’t been so focused on inflicting that particular wound. Sanji was forced to fight back even though he knew that the swordsman was likely running on close to empty. The white-haired man had said that he wouldn’t be able to restore his full strength without dying himself, and he was still standing behind the metal chair watching their fight with detached indifference.

“You…damn…idiot! SNAP OUT OF IT!” Sanji roared, deciding that he’d had enough of pulling his kicks for fear of hurting the other man. He gave Zoro an opening to go for his throat again and dodged the swing by ducking into a handstand and using his Côtelette attack to land a heavy blow on the swordsman’s ribs, sending him crashing into the wall. This effectively knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the floor in a heap, clutching his torso in astonishment.   

“That…kick…” he wheezed. “That was…Blackleg Style.”

“Of course it was, dumbass! Who the hell do you think you’re fighting?!”

Zoro was visibly startled by the cook’s outburst, head snapping around to stare at the blond with wide eyes. He dropped his katana beside him, his gaze never leaving Sanji’s face. The swordsman looked absolutely stunned, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes as he tried to stand. “C-cook? But you were…this can’t be real,” he muttered as the blond rushed to help him up. “I saw you die…”

“You saw _what?_ ” Sanji asked, turning a furious glare on the white-haired man.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincerely regretful, “but he wouldn’t accept any kiss that wasn’t yours. I had no choice but to convince him that you wouldn’t be able to save him.”

“What the fuck is _wrong_ with you people?!” the cook yelled, helping Zoro back into the chair and kneeling in front of him. “You were just hallucinating,” he told the swordsman. “That bastard made you think that I was dead, but I beat his redheaded buddy and came straight down here. I’m alive—we’re both alive.”

Zoro had slumped forward in the chair, seeming to have exhausted all of the energy he’d been given during their fight. He stared down at Sanji’s feet with a haunted expression that tore at the cook’s heart.

“Fuck…it was so…so real,” he whispered, panning up to meet the blond’s eyes. “I really thought he’d killed you—I watched him do it. There was so much blood...I could feel it when the chains came off—all over my hands.” 

He held them out as if to check that there really wasn’t any blood staining his palms. Uncontrollable tremors were running through them, and the cook immediately reached out to steady the swordsman's hands with his own. Before he had the chance to speak, Zoro slid off of the chair and crushed him to his chest, holding the blond as if he planned to never let him go. Sanji returned the embrace fiercely, running his fingers through the other man’s green hair and whispering words of reassurance into his ear. 

“Malec did something to me...I’m so tired, Sanji. I can feel myself slipping away again. He touched me before, and I…I just wanted it all to end. I forgot about everything that was important to me—my promise to Kuina, my ambition, the crew…you. I thought that I’d gotten you killed, and I wasn’t even strong enough to put up a fight when it was happening right in front of me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sanji said breathlessly. “I’m the one who got us into this—it was my fault that _you_ almost got killed—but I’m going to fix it. Kiss me,” he ordered, pulling back to rest his forehead against Zoro’s.    

“But you’ll get this stupid curse again, and—”

“Idiot! You can barely move right now. We don’t have time to argue about it, and besides, if you try to be a hero and it kills you, I’ll just end up with it by default anyway, and then I’ll have no choice but to accept Luffy’s slobbery rubber kisses. Don’t subject me to that torture!”

“I know, but…he’s dying, too,” Zoro said, turning to look at the white-haired man whom he’d called Malec. “They just want it to end. If I can get to Naru in time, I can try to pass it on again. I think it can still work now that I know you're here.”

“Are you serious? Did you forget that they almost killed you?!”

“They’re not bad people,” Zoro insisted. “They just want to be together, and they didn’t actually do anything to hurt me. I can see how much they love each other. I understand why they would do something like this to break the curse. In fact, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

The cook paused to openly stare at the fierce determination in the swordsman’s eyes. Zoro looked at Sanji with the same unwavering emotion that he was trying to describe, and the unconditional love he saw there did strange things to the blond’s heart. For the first time, he was able to really understand that love because he was feeling it right now.

He fucking loved this man with his ridiculous green hair and atrocious lack of manners. Hell, he even found his sword obsession, alcoholism, and his unfathomable tendency to get lost on a straight path kind of endearing— _endearing!_ What the hell had happened to him over these past few weeks?! The answer, of course, was beautiful in its simplicity. 

 _Against all odds, I actually went and fell in love with this dumbass,_ Sanji thought to himself.

He didn’t realize that he was wearing a grin the size of Reverse Mountain until Zoro said, “What’s that stupid goddamn smile for? Help me get upstairs before I drop dead. I need to get to Naru!”

Sanji shook his head, unable to control his joyful expression. “Sorry, but I’m gonna steal this one from him, too. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“W-wait a minute!”

“No. I’m not waiting anymore. It’ll be fine—I promise. We’re gonna break this curse ourselves,” he declared, surprising the swordsman with the certainty in his voice.

Zoro just looked at him, seeming to decide that there was no point in resisting any longer. He let out an exasperated sigh and said, “You’re so damn pushy, Cook. Is this how it’s always going to be?”

“God, I fucking hope so,” Sanji growled, yanking the swordsman towards him. Zoro matched his aggression and smashed their lips together, freezing in place when they were both jolted by the connection as if it had created a literal spark of electricity that traveled to every surface of their skin. They both gasped against one another but didn’t break the kiss even as the temperature in the room seemed to increase until it felt like they were kissing in a hot sauna.

Zoro groaned in pleasure as his energy was replenished, and he made good use of it by catching the cook's hips and dragging him onto his lap. The motion brought them even closer together, which seemed to escalate the fire and lightning assaulting their senses until Sanji felt dangerously close to fainting. The cook broke the kiss when he thought he could take no more, panting heavily from the over-stimulation that was still shaking him to his core. When he opened his eyes, he was shocked by his surroundings...

They were still in the basement, but they were also…everywhere else—he could feel the concrete below them and see Malec leaning against the grey wall, but at the same time, he also felt countless other terrains and saw images of various locations as if he were in multiple places at once. His mind swam in confusion as it tried to concentrate on each individual time and place.

He saw all of their nakama on the deck of the Sunny, as well as some crewmates that he didn’t recognize, enjoying a bright summer day on the Grand Line. Sanji was still in the basement, sitting on Zoro’s lap with the swordsman’s arms around him, but they were also lying together in the ship’s hammock while the cook read a newspaper dated a year from now, and Zoro absently played with his hair.

He noticed the stunning clarity of the ocean and was even able to look into its depths as if he were diving down in Franky’s shark submarine. Schools of fish swam past his eyes, flaunting their diversity, which could only mean one thing—he was in the middle of the All Blue…but he was also shoving the swordsman playfully overboard and watching him splash around in the ocean of his dreams. Zoro created a giant wave to drench the cook in retaliation, and Sanji swore he could taste the unique flavour of its mystical waters.

He heard Zoro laugh wholeheartedly, and suddenly he was laughing directly beside the cook while they were all sitting around a campfire, listening to one of Brook’s enchanting ballads. Again, they were surrounded by their nakama, old and new, but now they had aged by at least ten years. Sanji marveled at how handsome the swordsman looked, fully matured and nearly bursting at the seams of his tight shirt. The cook wasn’t sure which of his mouths watered at the sight—perhaps it was all of them. The man certainly hadn’t let himself go.

Zoro turned to smile at him, seeming to age again before his eyes, but he didn’t lose any of his youthful vigor or charm. They were perhaps in their forties—Sanji could feel it in his bones, though they were still stronger than any regular middle-aged man’s. His hand was in Zoro’s—matching gold rings resting comfortably on their fingers—and the cheerful sound of giggling children reached their ears from the swinging chair they were sitting on. They were still on the Sunny, but it looked a little different than usual—more family-friendly…cozy…safe.

Sanji relaxed while watching the calming images. He felt himself sinking into a soft mattress and turned his head at the sound of someone entering the room. Zoro had come home, still dressed in his uniform and looking like any respectable sensei, but as he slowly undressed, he shot Sanji an expression that was the exact _opposite_ of respectable, and suddenly the swordsman was everywhere—lying naked on top of the cook, pressing him bodily into the mattress, kneeling behind him with his lips tantalizingly exploring the curve of Sanji’s throat, and moving deep inside him as he filled his lover with heat.  

One of them sighed contentedly while the other matched their breathing, but they were both interchangeable at this point. Sanji didn’t know if he was feeling himself, or Zoro, or everything at once. His hands were frail now, his face lined with age and hair turned platinum-silver rather than blond—he wore it up sometimes regardless of his spiraling eyebrows. Infuriatingly, the swordsman still had traces of green in his, but the cook had long since stopped teasing him about it. In fact, green had become his favourite color.

Sanji tried to focus on the images he was seeing, but it was becoming more and more difficult as he moved further in time. He was still aware of his position on Zoro’s lap, in the hammock, underwater, on the ship’s deck, in the warmth of the fire, on the swinging chair, in bed with his lover, and always—always—in those strong arms. It was frightening and overwhelming in its intensity, but he loved every minute of it and longed to stay awhile in each place.

Just when he’d decided that these glimpses weren’t enough—he wanted to _experience_ these things for himself—he was abruptly wrenched from his other bodies and dropped back into his own. Zoro was still holding him exactly as he’d been before the strange out-of-body experience had begun, but he was considerably more shaken and disoriented. They were both panting as if they’d just run a marathon, faces flushed and hearts racing. Sanji had to gather the scrambled pieces of his wits before meeting Zoro’s eyes and asking, “Did…did you see all that, too?”

The swordsman flushed a delicate red and attempted to describe the experience as vaguely as possible. “Everyone was on the ship. Then there was a hammock...and the All Blue…a campfire, and…uh…”

“We were sitting together on a swinging chair.”

“Y-yeah.”

“You took off your work uniform, and then we had some unexpectedly hot old-people-sex,” Sanji recalled, latching onto that particular scene. He briefly let himself get caught up in the memory of Zoro’s skilled hands on his body until the swordsman interrupted his erotic thoughts by bursting into laughter.

“You’re bleeding, Cook,” he informed Sanji after a poor attempt at repressing his mirth.

The blond put a hand to his nose and was surprised to discover that he was indeed bleeding profusely. “Goddammit!” he growled in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose to help stop the blood flow. “Since when does this happen because of _you?_ ” 

“Maybe you’ve just got a fetish for old men,” Zoro suggested before resuming his raucous laughter.

“Shut up, I do not!” Sanji insisted, sliding off of the swordsman’s lap to deal with his nosebleed before he stained either of their shirts. His face flushed in embarrassment when he remembered that they were not alone—Malec hadn’t moved from the place where he’d collapsed to lean against the wall, and he was watching them unashamedly with intense curiosity.

“What the hell just happened?!” Sanji snapped at him as if it were entirely the white-haired man’s fault.

“You tell me, Mr. Pirate. It looked like you were both experiencing visions of some sort, but I have no idea what they were. All I know is that I am not longer connected to the curse. The weight of it, which I have grown accustomed to over so many years, is simply…gone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see what I can do about reviving my husband,” Malec explained before bracing himself to tackle the flight of stairs leading up to the first floor. His movements looked even more laboured than they were a moment ago—it seemed like the curse had nearly exhausted his resources of energy with the swordsman’s final revitalisation, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from reuniting with his love.

“So it really worked?” Zoro asked incredulously once they were alone. “None of us are gonna die? I know that _I_ feel totally normal, but what about you, Cook?”

“I guess we’ll know in a few days. That kiss didn’t feel anything like how it did when I first got the curse though. It was…”

“…interesting,” Zoro finished, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Do you think any of that was real?”

“I have no idea, but I don’t think either of us believe in _destiny_ or anything stupid like that. We probably just saw whatever we wanted to see.”

Zoro snorted and shot the cook a highly skeptical glance. “I find it hard to believe that _that’s_ what you envision when you think about the future.”

“That’s so cold, Zoro! How swiftly you dismiss my love!” Sanji said dramatically, feigning shock.

“Don’t joke about that kind of stuff,” the swordsman replied stiffly, retrieving his katana and re-sheathing it at his waist. He purposely didn’t look at Sanji as he said it, which added to the strange tension that had suddenly grown between them. After experiencing something so intense, both men felt pressured to discuss what they’d seen and acknowledge that the two of them had apparently been able to do what countless other pairs hadn’t—break the Curse of 100 Kisses with some sort of fairy tale “true love’s kiss” nonsense. The pirates were obviously too embarrassed to ask if perhaps it _wasn’t_ nonsense at all, but Sanji wasn’t called the love-cook for nothing, so he had no choice but to live up to his namesake and admit his feelings to the swordsman.     

“I’m sorry. I am taking this seriously—honest,” the cook told him. He was mildly horrified to realize that he was actually nervous despite having confessed his love to hundreds of beautiful women in the past. This was different, though, because he truly meant it on a deeper level than he had when he’d said it to those girls. Sanji realized that everything he’d ever called love had been pitifully shallow in comparison to what he'd discovered he felt for Zoro, and he knew that the swordsman had beaten him to that realization ages ago. Even so, it was surprisingly nerve-wracking to reach out and stop the other man from leaving.

“We don't have to talk about it, Cook. Breaking the curse like that...it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We don’t know for sure how it works since nobody’s ever been able to end it. I’m not expecting you to—”

 _“_ God _,_ you can be a thick-headed moron sometimes,” Sanji interrupted, exasperated. “I don’t care about some stupid story claiming that ‘true love’s kiss’ is the magical solution to a misinterpretation of a devil fruit ability. It doesn’t matter what anyone says about it—I still know how I feel.” 

Zoro finally looked at the cook, turning to face him hesitantly but with obvious curiosity.

“Let me tell you what I know,” the blond insisted, his grip tightening on the swordsman’s forearm. Zoro nodded silently and waited while Sanji took a deep breath and let himself just ramble on. “I know that there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind when I realized that we could end the curse. I’m naturally skeptical, so I can’t promise that I’ll never wonder what it really meant or question the images we saw—I don’t know if they were real or if those things are even possible, but I know that I _want_  them to be. I want you to take me back to the ship and fuck me until I pass out. I want to wake up next to your stupid face and complain about your table manners when I make everyone breakfast, but I’ll still slip you extra bacon and be secretly glad that you appreciate my cooking. I want to do that kind of stuff every day for years until I’m too old to remember how oblivious I was before this all happened, and if feeling like that isn’t love then I don’t fucking know what is.”

“Sanji…” Zoro whispered, reaching out to catch the blond’s face in his hands. For a moment, he simply held him and let his gaze linger critically on the cook’s expression as if he were still suspicious about whether or not Sanji was really here—alive and speaking to him with such sincerity. “I’m sorry, too. I know that you wouldn’t lie about something this important, and you did seem totally convinced that we could break the curse, but I just don’t understand where that determination came from when you were literally screaming that you weren’t my boyfriend a few hours ago.”

Sanji groaned and dropped his head onto Zoro’s shoulder, flushing in embarrassment. “Forget I said that. I was…emotionally compromised at the time. This is...it’s a thing, alright? Don’t go looking around for other options, bastard—you’re mine.”

The swordsman chuckled and wrapped his arms around the blond, tilting his chin to kiss his reddened face. “It’s amazing how you can fluctuate from literally pouring your heart out to being too shy to even define the relationship properly.”

“Sh-shut up…”

“Seriously, you were begging me to fuck you three sentences ago, but the word _boyfriend—_ nope, that’s off-limits.”

“I hate you.”

“I think your eyebrows get curlier every time that you lie.”

“I _really_ hate you!”

“Well, I love you,” Zoro said, cracking a smile at how the statement made Sanji blush even harder.

“If you really love me, you’ll take me back to the ship and make good on your promise to do things at my pace. Those visions gave me blue balls.”

“You’re a hopeless pervert.”

“Maybe...but you get to take advantage of that fact.”

“This is true,” Zoro admitted, pulling Sanji in for another, much more heated, kiss. The cook opened his mouth immediately, moaning into it as their tongues met in a fierce exchange.

They were both too preoccupied with the other to notice the basement door opening behind them until their rubber captain interrupted the moment with the loudest, most obnoxious laughter possible followed by a truly brilliant shit-eating grin. “Shishishishi! Man, you guys are really going at it! That’ll have to wait until later—something weird’s going on with the red-haired man and that old guy. Come see!”

They jumped apart in surprise, shooting angry glares at the rubber man to cover for their respective blushes. Sanji still couldn’t get over the fact that _Luffy_ was not only familiar with sex but apparently also _gay sex,_ and he had no illusions about the nature of the cook's relationship with Zoro. It was a somewhat uncomfortable reality that they would have to come to terms with.

“Malec’s still alive then?” The swordsman muttered, following Luffy back the way they’d come. “He looked about ready to drop. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know! I couldn’t get inside when Sanji and I got here, but I kept trying until whatever was stopping me went away. When I came in, I found those two guys just sitting in the middle of the floor holding hands. I tried to kick their asses for messing with my nakama, but I can’t touch them!” Luffy complained, running into the living room where Malec and Naru were indeed sitting lotus style and focusing intensely on whatever it was they were doing.

Sanji recognized the barrier that had been preventing Luffy from entering the house, but it had shrunk in size to just barely be able to surround both men. Just like before, he discovered that although Luffy was unable to reach through the barrier, both he and Zoro could pass if they wanted to. Neither Malec or Naru looked up when the pirates approached them, never breaking their concentration as they mingled their auras with one another. Sanji took a closer look at their calm faces and immediately understood what Luffy had meant by something “weird” going on—color seemed to be returning to Malec’s hair, his skin becoming smoother and the wrinkles there fading, as he slowly aged backwards. It looked like he was taking years' worth of life energy from Naru, who was aging in the opposite direction and growing older by the second.

“That’s so cool!” Luffy commented, plopping down to watch the transition, his grudge towards the two men apparently forgotten. No one said anything until the exchange had finished and the pair opened their eyes. Naru smiled at his husband, eyes crinkling adorably as his new crow’s feet pulled at the aged skin around his eyes. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, which matched the now dark-haired Malec, who looked to be about the same age.

“Twenty years…” Naru said happily, dragging his lover close enough to bump foreheads.

“And we don’t look a day over thirty,” Malec lied, returning the other man’s grin.

“It’s worth it now that the curse isn’t draining your life force. I’d gladly give you twice as many.”

“We’re finally free, and it’s all thanks to pirates—who would’ve guessed?” Malec said good-naturedly, finally acknowledging the presence of the other men in the room. He got to his feet and was quickly followed by Naru, who immediately placed himself in front of his husband in case another fight broke out. He shot Sanji a dirty look but let his expression soften when he turned to Zoro.

“I really am sorry for what we put you through. It seems it wasn’t necessary, after all.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Sanji said quietly, staring down at his feet. “If you hadn’t kidnapped Zoro then he probably would’ve just found somebody else to pass the curse onto, and even if it hadn’t worked…well, I don’t know if I would’ve realized how much he meant to me in time to break the curse. This could have easily turned into a never-ending cycle—all because I’m an indecisive asshole.”

“Hey,” Zoro cut in, frowning at the cook’s self-deprecating words, “you figured it out, and that’s all that matters. Nobody had to die—it’s kind of anticlimactic really.”

“We are both extremely grateful, even if you didn’t do this for us,” Malec told them sincerely. “I am especially ashamed to have been saved by you, Roronoa, because you _did_ want to help me break the curse even after I put you through such a horrible experience. I could never have forgiven someone who forced me to witness Naru’s death. You have a very kind heart.”

“Whatever. I never said that I forgive you for all that, but I didn’t feel like letting you die when I understood why you were doing this. Just go back to your home and enjoy boring marital life. We’ve been stuck here long enough—it’s time to get back to sea,” Zoro announced, causing Luffy to break out into a wide grin.

“Yosh! Time for a new adventure! You guys will have to tell me what the heck happened while I was stuck outside. I have no idea what any of you are talking about,” he said unconcernedly.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I was hallucinating and thought that carrot-top here murdered the cook, and then I nearly killed the cook thinking that he was carrot-top. We sorted everything out and broke the curse, and I even got a mushy love confession out of it.”

“Bastard! I will _fillet_ you!” Sanji snapped, kicking the swordsman in the side.

They said their goodbyes to Malec and Naru and hastily made their way back to the Sunny with Luffy leading the way miles ahead of his two fatigued crewmates. The cook was still steaming from Zoro’s unabashed disclosure of his private confession while the swordsman just kept grinning like a moron. “I take it all back,” the blond grumbled aloud. “There’s no way I could fall for this stupid ball of moss!”

“Well, you did say that you might have some doubts, but I’m willing to deal with your fickle affections because if you even _think_ about changing your mind,” Zoro started, lowering his voice to speak into Sanji’s ear with a husky tone that he knew would drive the cook wild, “I’ll have to remind you what it feels like to be my lover.”

The blond hitched in a breath, cheeks flushing from arousal rather than embarrassment. He took a moment to compose himself, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and lighter to occupy his mouth with something other than kissing the swordsman. “This is going to be difficult for me, you know. I’ll have to give up women for you. Do you think you’ll be able to keep me satisfied?” he asked with a coy smile.

“You know I like a challenge,” he replied easily, threading his fingers with Sanji’s. When the cook didn’t immediately reject it, Zoro knew that he’d been forgiven. “Even if it’ll be difficult, we have a lifetime to make it work.”

“Just make it worth my while, shitty-swordsman, and I might consider sticking around.”

“Asshole.”

“Seaweed.”

“Pervert.”

“Exhibitionist.”

“Hey, do you think Nami would actually erase both our debts if we let her—?”

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, YOU NEANDERTHAL!”

“…Prude.”

“UGGH!!!”


	17. Shape of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains spoilers about Sanji's past from the more recent arc. If you don't wish to have too many details spoiled, you can skip the italicized flashback. 
> 
> This is the epilogue and will be the final chapter! Thank you all so much for reading my fic. I would really appreciate any feedback, since this story is my pride and joy and has taken me a year to finish! I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Love and thanks,  
> The Author

Chapter song: "Shape of You" by Ed Sheeran

Epilogue:

“OI! Food’s ready, assholes! Get in here and sit down—and don’t even think about starting until Nami and Robin are here!” Sanji yelled, waving a ladle threateningly at the captain and sharpshooter as they barreled into the galley. The delicious scent of his cooking had been wafting from the kitchen for the past few hours, but the blond had been adamant about keeping everyone from his work space until he’d finished. Zoro set down his barbells and eagerly joined the line behind Chopper, Brook, and Franky, who seemed just as excited to eat whatever the cook had in store for them.

“THERE’S SO MUCH FOOD!!!” Luffy shouted, seating himself in front of the largest plate of meat. He knew better than to ignore Sanji’s warning and immediately dig in, but that didn’t stop him from loudly clanking his utensils together and singing about his impatience. Brook joined him in creating a silly tune, and Usopp stuck his long nose over a bowl of steaming ramen to inhale the delectable scent.

“It smells _almost_ as good as Usopp’s Famous Ramen of the Gods,” he announced, mouth watering.

“You can cook ramen?!” Chopper asked excitedly, his eyes lighting up as he sat next to the liar.

“Of course! My ramen is so incredibly delicious that it once caused a war between two kings who insisted I become their personal chef! The fighting went on for days—many lives were lost in the great Battle of Noodles because both kingdoms needed resources from the other to complete my signature dish! In the end, I was able to convince them to reconcile their differences and host the world’s largest hot pot together!”

“That’s amazing, Usopp! You’re so smart!” Chopper praised him.

“Did either of the kings reward you, bro? Perhaps with a kiss from one of their gorgeous daughters?” Franky asked, playing along.

“They both did, in fact. I had the two most beautiful women in the land on my arms that day.”

“How lucky! Did you get the chance to see their panties?!” Brook inquired just as Nami was entering the galley. She spared him the usual blows with her fist in favour of taking in the immaculate sight of the cook’s spread of food.

“This looks incredible, Sanji-kun! You’ve really outdone yourself this time,” she told him, taking her seat beside the archaeologist.

That was the cue for everyone else to dig in, and the room was immediately filled with the sound of eight people swallowing followed by a collective sigh in appreciation of the amazing taste. It seemed as though Sanji had even gone out of his way to set the table according to the crew’s favourite foods; most of the fruit dishes had been placed where Nami sat, anything sweet was within reaching distance of Chopper’s hooves, Usopp had his nose buried in an enormous plate of fish, while Brook practically inhaled the takoyaki in front of him, and Franky chased his greasy hamburger and fries with a bottle of cola.

“This feast is absolutely perfect,” Robin remarked as she bit into a beautifully made sandwich, “but what’s the occasion?”

“I’m so glad you like it! Your praise makes all of my hard work worthwhile, Robin-chan! Please, have some coffee with your meal,” he said, pouring her a steaming cup.

Zoro took a sip from his own mug, filled to the brim with a rather expensive ale, to hide his knowing grin. It was obvious that Sanji had put an incredible amount of effort into everyone’s food, and the swordsman appreciated the simplistic presentation of his own meal, which had been artfully plated with perfectly cooked sea-king meat and a side of rice, just how he liked it.

“Don’t think you can fool her by avoiding the question, curly-brow. This _is_ a special occasion, isn’t it?”

Sanji paused on his way to the table, glancing sheepishly at Robin and shrugging uncomfortably. He seemed reluctant to admit why he had gone so far to make a meal above and beyond his usual standards, but Zoro wasn’t about to let the issue drop when he knew _exactly_ why the cook was in such a generous mood.

“Are we celebrating something, Sanji? Will there be cake after?” Chopper asked excitedly.

“W-well…sort of. It’s not a big de—”

“Today’s the day we broke the curse,” Zoro announced, reaching out to catch the blond’s elbow and drag him into the empty seat beside him. “It’s been one year. Happy Anniversary, Sanji.”

He caught the cook off-guard with a heated kiss that resulted in a round of applause and unashamed catcalls from the rest of the crew. Sanji floundered for a moment, clearly shocked by the swordsman’s uncharacteristic public display of affection, and his cheeks flared bright-red under the watchful gaze of their supportive nakama.

“Wow, it’s really been that long?” Nami said, smiling at the unlikely couple. Sanji had recovered from his initial surprise and was now complaining about the suddenness of Zoro’s kiss and its inappropriate display in front of the ladies. “Congratulations you two! Don’t frown so much, Sanji-kun. It’ll spoil your good looks,” she told him cutely, raising her glass for a toast.

“KANPAI!” they shouted, forcing the cook to join them in clinking their glasses.

“What the hell, Zoro?” he muttered in embarrassment. “Why’d you have to go and announce it like that?”

“Complain all you want, Cook. We don’t usually get to celebrate it with the crew since both of us tend to like our privacy, so let them have this—and besides, I know that you secretly love this sort of thing.”

“Shut up, I do not.”

“Oh, so you _don’t_ want to openly spend the day as a couple for once? That’s fine. I’ll just go lift some weights and let you finish all the dishes.”

 “Alright, alright, wait a minute! I lied—I want to do that. Don’t leave before I’m finished eating, fucker.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re too damn stubborn, curly. Just enjoy yourself and forget what anybody else might say. It’s not like they’ll ever stop teasing us about this, so you might as well ignore it and celebrate with us,” Zoro told him, gripping the blond’s hand under the table. He’d always been amused by how shy the cook got when it came to their relationship, but sometimes even the stoic swordsman wanted to be able to just hold his boyfriend’s hand without worrying about who was looking.

Sanji smiled and squeezed tighter, meeting Zoro’s gaze with a bit more confidence. Suddenly, neither of them cared if it was out of character—they kissed again, only breaking apart when Nami said, “AWW~~~♥!” and leaned forward to get a better look at their lip-locking. The swordsman expected Sanji to continue complaining about their immodest PDA in front of his precious ladies, so he was surprised when something akin to mischief sparked in the cook’s eye.

“May I speak to you for a moment in private, Nami dear?” he asked sweetly, turning to the redhead with a sly smile.

“Alright, but it had better be quick because I want to try _all_ of your delicious food!” she said happily. It seemed like she was genuinely excited to try the dishes, but Zoro knew that the real reason she was so happy was because Sanji had planned this dinner as a surprise and paid for the extra ingredients out of his own pocket.

The two stood up from the table, and the navigator allowed herself to be escorted outside. They were only gone for a few minutes, but their exchange had Nami re-entering the room with a smile so big that it looked like she had just won the jackpot at a casino.

“Aren’t you curious what that was all about?” Usopp asked quietly through a mouthful of potatoes.

The swordsman just shrugged, convinced that it didn’t matter what the cook had been talking about with the sea-witch. It wasn’t like he had to worry about Sanji making a move on her because Zoro would dismember him—they’d had _that_ conversation months ago.

It wasn’t until later, after the dinner dishes had been washed by their grateful crewmates and the Straw Hat couple had finished lounging together in the hammock, that Sanji mentioned his conversation with the redhead.

“So…” he started, flicking his finished cigarette butt into the ocean and leaning against the ship’s rail. “I was talking to Nami at dinner, and apparently her offer from a year ago still stands.”

 Zoro met him at the railing with an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? _That’s_ what you guys were being so secretive about?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a family-friendly topic for the dinner table,” Sanji snorted, giving the swordsman a sideways glance. “You still interested? I’m sure your debt’s even higher than mine,” he commented lightly.

“She seriously said that she’d erase our debts if we let her watch us have sex, and _you’re_ seriously considering it?” Zoro asked suspiciously.

Sanji shrugged and awkwardly fiddled with the collars of his sleeves. “Sure. I mean, you kinda seemed like you’d be really into it, and it’s our anniversary, so I thought—”

“Hold on a minute,” Zoro interrupted. He caught the blond’s restless fingers and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the other man's slim waist. “You know that you don’t have to do something you’re uncomfortable with just because _I_ want to do it, right?”

“So you want to then?”

“It doesn’t matter, Cook. I don’t want to if _you_ don’t. I know how you feel about Nami—if it would be weird for you, I’d rather us stay in debt,” he said seriously.

“I do appreciate that, but I sort of already told her we could do it tonight. I thought about it a lot and decided that I’d be willing to agree to a slight compromise.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Zoro asked, intrigued by Sanji’s sudden enthusiasm.

 _“I_ get to fuck _you,_ ” he said, tilting his face to whisper it right beside the swordsman’s ear. His gravely smoker’s voice was always an immediate turn on, and it didn’t help that Sanji had somehow backed him up against the railing and was pressing the lengths of their bodies together.

“Are you worried about being seen in a compromising position, Cook? Because I couldn’t care less if you bent me in half and fucked me senseless in front of her. Nami would probably enjoy it just as much as us—she’s a closet pervert.”

“So we’re in agreement? I told her to meet us in the crow’s nest before Robin’s night-watch, but she insisted that we do it in her room. Won’t that be a nice change?” Sanji chuckled, amused by the swordsman’s intense game-face. He looked completely prepared to strip down to their socks at a moment’s notice, and that excitement was made even more obvious by the erection pressing against the cook’s thigh.

“I can’t believe she’d offer to let us use her own bed even if the women’s quarters is the most private place on the ship. I bet she’s gonna burn the sheets afterward.”

“Who cares? She seemed pretty eager—I think I saw her tear up a little when I suggested talking to you about it.”

“Holy shit,” Zoro muttered, swooping down to crush his lips enthusiastically against the blond’s. “Are you totally sure about this? I don’t want to get my ass kicked later.”

“How could I deny my lovely Nami-san her ultimate fantasy? It would disgrace me as a man!”

“You’re an amazing idiot,” Zoro said, chuckling when the cook shot him an unamused pout. “Emphasis on _amazing,_ okay? You want to take a shower with me? We can warm up before tonight’s performance,” he suggested with a lewd grin.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sanji whispered huskily, “because I’m going to _wreck you,_ Zoro.”

“Just try it, Cook.”

***

A few hours later, Robin passed the swordsman on her way to the crow’s nest and glanced his way. “Have fun tonight,” she told him with a sly wink. He ignored her comment and focused on keeping his blood from congregating in places that would reveal his embarrassment and arousal at the reminder. It had already been hard enough not to get carried away with thoughts about what was going to happen, and as the moon continued to rise, so did Zoro’s excitement.

Yes, he was a giant hypocrite for always teasing the cook about his perverted tendencies because the swordsman was perhaps even more of a pervert when it came to exhibitionism. There was just something so satisfying about knowing that he was being watched and wondering how his actions—his body and sounds—were affecting another person. Most sexual situations were one-on-one, so his partner was usually focused on him. That intense focus was what urged him to give his best performance so that his audience always felt pleasure when looking at him.

It wasn’t about narcissism or a desire for praise—he wasn’t vain or attention-hungry. Zoro got off on the feeling of someone’s gaze on him, plain and simple. He liked knowing that he could influence someone’s emotions so easily, like when he’d first demonstrated how to prepare himself for Sanji and the cook had been visibly affected. The swordsman could still remember the surprised gasp that had come from the blond—he’d imagined that he could even hear Sanji’s pulse racing as his arousal spiked. Just thinking about the different reactions to Zoro’s many performances over the past year was already making the swordsman hard in his pants. Even if he personally preferred to be a part of the action, he understood Nami’s desire to watch them because he also enjoyed watching Sanji. That was the whole point of putting himself on display, after all—he wanted to please the man who feeds him.            

He didn’t particularly want to please Nami, but he liked the idea of showing her something incredibly beautiful that she couldn’t see anywhere else. The cook and him had developed something special that was still so new and passionate. They’d had plenty of time to enjoy it to themselves, but now they could share it with their nakama and clear their debts as an added bonus. Zoro could hardly believe that the cook would agree to something like this, but he had no doubt that Sanji would enjoy it.

With him, it was _always_ about narcissism. The blond had never gone a day in his life without obsessing over his appearance and how others would receive him. He liked to look good and show off for the ladies. It was important that he kept a carefully constructed persona that reflected his notion of the ideal gentleman. Zoro hadn’t always understood why this was so important to him, but he’d learned a lot about the cook since the Curse of 100 Kisses, and he knew that Sanji wasn’t obsessed with his looks because he was vain—it was because he was careful.

The cook had spent his entire life under the scrutiny of men who constantly judged him—whose images depended on how Sanji appeared. First, there was his father—an incredibly important political figure who had no qualms with pitting his children against one another and comparing their strength. Judge Vinsmoke had decided that his third son was the weakest of the litter and would only dishonor him and his family, so he had cut Sanji out of his life.

Then there was Zeff—a former pirate who had given up everything to save one scrawny runaway from drowning. He and Sanji built the Baratie together, and the sea restaurant had become the old cook’s new dream. Even if he'd never asked it of him, Sanji had continuously strived to better himself so that he would never bring shame to the man who had saved his life, given him a home, and shared his greatest dream worth going to sea for. Zoro could still remember how perfectly poised and well-dressed Sanji was when the swordsman had first laid eyes on him—it had honestly been annoying as hell in the beginning, but he knew now that everything the cook had done in those days had been for Zeff as repayment for everything the ex-pirate had done for him.

When Luffy came along, announcing that he was going to be the King of the Pirates, Sanji had secretly decided that he would have to be the world’s best chef if he was going to be on the Straw Hat crew. Suddenly, he was a part of a crazy dysfunctional family with a captain to represent, two beautiful women to impress, and an irritable swordsman to rival. Zoro had never put much thought into Sanji’s attitude (besides deciding that it was annoying), so he’d felt incredibly humbled after hearing about the cook’s complicated past. Although it wasn’t important where he came from, those experiences had made him the man he was today, and Zoro was lucky enough to not only learn why his boyfriend’s appearance was so valuable to him but to also be the only person with whom Sanji completely dropped those pretenses. Needless to say, they’d both come a long way from the cook and the swordsman who were constantly at each other’s throats.

His thoughts were interrupted by Nami’s arrival on the ship’s deck, which instantly captured his attention and piqued his excitement all over again. She was making her way towards him with a disgustingly happy smile and a spring in her step like she was trying to contain a huge amount of energy and couldn’t quite suppress it. More suspiciously was the length of dark fabric in her hands that she was clutching to her chest as if it were a stack of berries. She stopped in front of him, bouncing on her heels like an excitable puppy in front of its master, and handed him the material in her hands. He took it warily, shooting her a confused look when he realized that it was just one of the cook’s many ties.

“Put it on,” she told him eagerly. “We’re ready to start.”

“I didn’t realize this would be a formal affair, or I would have worn a nicer haramaki.”

“You only have one—but that’s not what I meant. You’re supposed to put it over your eyes.”

“Eh?!”

“Come on, Sanji told me you’d be fine with it. He must have a plan for how he wants this to go, and it includes you in a blindfold.”

Zoro shrugged and conceded easily, wrapping the silky strand around his head and securing it in place. He’d let the cook tie him up plenty of times before, so this was mild compared to some of the bondage positions they’d explored. He wondered if _that_ was what the cook had in mind and felt a shiver of nervous anticipation crawl up his spine. If he couldn’t see what was being done to him, he’d have to imagine how it all looked—it was a whole new level of exhibitionism because there would be nothing but his remaining senses and his imagination to help him visualize the reactions of his audience.

“Alright, I’m blind. Let’s go,” he said, feigning nonchalance. He didn’t want Nami to know how excited he already was when they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom yet. The blindfold was certainly a good idea, and he would have to thank Sanji for suggesting it.

Nami giggled and took hold of his arm, leading him back the way she came like they were on a romantic stroll together. She leaned into his arm and excitedly described exactly how she’d moved the furniture in her room to accommodate any activities they might decide on. Apparently, Sanji had only made two requests besides the blindfold—a chair and some rope. The details immediately prompted his mind to start visualizing the room and imagining all sorts of perverted things the cook might be planning.

After a few minutes, Nami dragged him to a halt, and he heard the sound of her door opening as Sanji said, “Please come in, my beauties!” Zoro rolled his eyes under the blindfold and followed Nami’s lead. They walked forward until another pair of hands settled on his shoulders, and she let the cook continue leading him inside. “Stand right here, and don’t move,” Sanji instructed, releasing his grip on the swordsman.

Zoro did as he was told, curious to find out what the cook had in store for him. He would have usually put up more of a fight, instead of allowing himself to be ordered around, but tonight was different. The blindfold was more than just a way to impair his sight—it was Sanji’s way of telling him that he was going to lead the show, and Zoro was to go along with it complacently.

“Strip,” the cook said without preamble. He was using a deceptively casual tone to mask the underlying authoritativeness in the demand, which confirmed Zoro’s assumption about what the blindfold meant. It sent a thrill of excitement through the swordsman, who immediately began undressing. He gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, being careful not to displace the blindfold, and tossed it aside somewhere in the room. “Everything comes off,” Sanji told him firmly.

The swordsman calmly continued shrugging off his clothes, unhooking his haramaki, belt, and pants, before letting them drop to his ankles and kicking the fabric away. He hesitated for barely a second once he was standing there, blind and in nothing but his underpants, but he could hear the subtle change in the cook’s breathing and was motivated to remove the remaining garment and bare himself to the room.

“Good…he listens,” Sanji commented appreciatively. Zoro could hear the smile in his voice as well as his growing arousal. The swordsman was already half-hard with anticipation, so he was relieved by the loss of restriction rather than embarrassed by his nakedness. In fact, he enjoyed the thought of his crewmates ogling his body because the bedroom was the one place where he could show off the perfect physique he’d constructed through years of training for battle. His fighting senses were naturally heightened without his eyesight, and he could feel Sanji’s presence in front of him while Nami sat behind in full view of his backside.

After a short pause, the cook rested an open palm against Zoro’s sternum, pushing gently to get him to take a few steps back. When his legs bumped into something hard, Sanji slid his hand to the swordsman’s shoulder and shoved him roughly, causing him to fall back and land joltingly in a wooden chair. Thankfully, it was padded enough that he wouldn’t be uncomfortable sitting there for an extended amount of time, which he immediately figured he’d have to when Sanji said, “Put your hands behind the backrest.”

Zoro stretched his arms behind him, unsurprised when Nami caught his wrists and tied them together with a length of rope. He was glad to discover that it wasn’t an ordinary rope that could tear into skin but something soft and flexible that he was familiar with from previous situations with the cook. Once he was properly restrained, Sanji placed a single finger underneath the swordsman’s chin, slowly tilting his face up.

“You look good like this—naked and completely at my mercy,” he said smugly.

“You’ve got it backwards, Cook. I bet you’re as hard as a rock right now because I’m _allowing_ you to see me like this.”

He grinned up at Sanji’s face, just as smugly, and the finger below his chin disappeared. A moment later, he felt the cook’s legs moving to either side of the chair, followed by the weight of him settling on Zoro’s hips.     

“Does this answer your question?” he whispered, pressing himself against the swordsman’s eager cock. Sanji always wore impressively tight pants, so Zoro could feel the shape of his erection through the rough fabric. He bucked automatically, causing Sanji to grip his shoulders and growl at the feeling of their lengths moving together.

“Who’s at whose mercy, hmm?” Zoro asked him, finding the cook’s jaw with his lips.

Sanji let him follow through with the action, tilting his head to expose more of his neck for the swordsman to latch onto. He moved his hips in time with the wet kisses that Zoro was leaving along the length of his throat, occasionally letting out small satisfied breaths when he sucked at a particularly sensitive spot. They both knew each other’s body by heart at this point, which gave neither of them the advantage when it came to foreplay—something that Sanji was quickly reminded of when he forgot that he was supposed to be playing the dominant role and succumbed to Zoro’s talented mouth.

Sanji smelt like cigarettes and seafood, and his skin tasted like the ocean. The swordsman wished he could continue ravishing him all night, but their audience made a pleased noise at the erotic sight, which broke the cook out of his trance and reminded him that he was supposed to be leading the show. Sanji stilled and began retreating from his position on Zoro’s lap, but the movement was stopped by a small tug at his collar, which the swordsman had taken between his teeth.

“Oi, don’t get your slobber on this nice fabric,” he complained instantly.

Zoro released him and said, “If you’re so fond of it, you should take it off. That is way too many layers for someone about to fuck—I can literally feel the heat pouring off you.”

“One thing at a time, shitty-swordsman.”

“At least let me undo it for you,” Zoro suggested, finding his way to the cook’s first button by touch. He wrapped his lips around it and carefully slipped it out of the hole using the strength of his teeth and tongue. Sanji didn’t say a word until he was four buttons in and able to undo them twice as fast.

“I told you not to get your slobber on it,” he said, but the complaint didn’t have nearly as much impact with how breathless he sounded.

Zoro could feel the movement of his chest rising and falling as it was slowly exposed. He paused to drag his tongue along the cook’s sternum, biting roughly at his collarbone to make him gasp. Fingers dug into his shoulder blades, prompting the swordsman to loosen his teeth and sooth the mark with a soft caress of his tongue. Sanji was trembling slightly from the effort of holding in his moans, so Zoro took pity on him and resumed his task of unbuttoning his dress-shirt until the cook could get his breathing back under control.

He worked more slowly on the last section because he had to ruck up the hem of Sanji’s shirt with nothing but his mouth to reach the lower buttons. The fact that the cook was being so silent and patient told Zoro that he was grudgingly impressed by the swordsman’s ability to undress him blind. When the final button was undone, Zoro couldn’t help but smile triumphantly and lean forwards to capture Sanji’s lips. It was surprisingly difficult to find them because the cook was already trying to slip off the other man’s lap.

“Aw come on, don’t I at least deserve a kiss after that?” Zoro grumbled unhappily.

“Alright, since what I’m about to do to you apparently isn’t enough of a reward, I’ll give you this,” Sanji obliged, leaning in to press their lips together in a chaste kiss.

Zoro loved how easy it was to get him to do what he wanted. It hadn’t always been like this, especially in the beginning. Sanji had wanted to preserve his twisted sense of masculinity, so he’d resisted the romantic part of their relationship and tried to maintain the rivalry between them even when they were alone. It had taken a few months for Zoro to get him to warm up to the idea that they didn’t _always_ have to be the cook and the swordsman—sometimes they could just be Sanji and Zoro—but when he did, Sanji hadn’t been able to resist the romantic in him. He _was_ the love-cook after all, and he loved Zoro.

For the swordsman’s part, he’d surprised everyone—including himself—with how invested in their relationship he was. Zoro was not a man who loved easily, and he had certainly never expected to feel the way he did for that annoying blond, but once his mind had been made up, he never wavered. It was honestly a little terrifying, loving Sanji, because he’d never imagined that it was possible to love someone so deeply. When the cook did things like this—agreeing to indulge in the swordsman’s fantasies and kissing him with the casual intimacy of lovers who knew each other inside and out—Zoro loved him even more.

Thinking about it filled him with the desire to show Sanji how he felt, and he didn’t care that someone else was watching—he wanted everyone in the world to know it.

“Cook,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. Zoro strained against the ropes, leaning as far forward as he could go. He knew that Sanji was standing right in front of him—could hear the sound of him shedding his shirt and letting it fall to the floor—and Sanji knew exactly what he wanted. The cook moved directly in front of Zoro, who pressed his lips against the hard planes of the other man’s stomach, just above his happy trail. He tilted his face to where he knew Sanji’s would be and said, “I want to taste you. Hurry up.”

“Well, since you asked so _nicely,_ ” the cook replied sarcastically, carding his fingers lovingly through Zoro’s hair, “I suppose I have no choice but to feed you.”

The sound of him popping open his front button and undoing the zipper did wonderful things to the swordsman’s body. It was the loudest thing in the room to his eager ears, and his mouth instantly began watering like he was about to taste Sanji’s food—although, even the cook’s best dish wasn’t as good as sex with him, so Zoro could barely contain his excitement when he finally felt the warmth of Sanji’s cock against his lips. He swallowed it enthusiastically, closing his eyes beneath the blindfold on instinct so that he could focus on the weight of it on his tongue. Its shape and taste were so familiar to him that he thought he would be able to pick it out of a lineup, which made the swordsman grin inwardly with perverse pleasure when he realized the sheer number of blowjobs he must have given Sanji to be able to know that.       

This time was different, though—the cook was being careful not to let his control slip because his precious Nami-san was watching. There wasn’t a sound coming from him besides his slightly laboured breathing, but Zoro was determined to break that control and give the navigator an honest performance on both their parts. He continued with his normal pace for a few more seconds before sliding his lips to the top of Sanji’s cock. He sucked it lightly and rolled his tongue around the head, catching the salty pre-come dripping from the tip. When the blond’s fingers threaded into his hair in an attempt to pull him back onto his cock, Zoro resisted and shot him a small grin.

“Don’t make _me_ do all the work, Cook. Come on, fuck my mouth—I want it faster.”

“You sure are greedy tonight,” Sanji commented gruffly, “but I’m feeling generous.”

Suddenly, Zoro was wrenched backward, his heart beating madly at the abrupt sensation of falling, but he quickly realized that the cook was just holding the chair at an angle and tipping it onto its back legs to give himself more leverage. Without missing a beat, Sanji shoved his length down the swordsman’s throat and began thrusting. Zoro concentrated on suppressing his gag reflex while the cook synced the rocking of his hips with the tilting of the chair—it was certainly an inventive way to utilize the furniture.  

He could only imagine the view that Nami must be seeing from where she’d moved beside them. Zoro knew that Sanji was standing over him, completely naked while he controlled the immense power in his muscles to balance the chair against the force of his legs. The swordsman could picture the blond’s lean body bending the same way when they fucked standing in the shower—he had enough strength to go for hours in that position, but his sexual stamina was another thing. With the rate they were going, and the way he was already panting, Sanji wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer unless he wanted to pause their little show for recovery.

Zoro knew that the cook wouldn’t want to come so early on in their foreplay, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for him to endure. On the next thrust, he swallowed his cock to the base until his nose was buried in the dark blond curls, moaning in the back of his throat to stimulate the whole length with slow vibrations.

“F-fuck…Zoro,” Sanji moaned in response. The chair creaked from the force of his fingers gripping the wooden frame as he froze, desperately holding back his orgasm. The swordsman gave one last suck before releasing his cock to take in a big gulp of air and steady his breathing. His face thumped into Sanji’s hip as he was pitched forward when the cook let go of the chair. He dropped a few kisses along the V-shaped cut above the blond’s groin, smiling in amusement at how Sanji’s erection was resting comfortably on his shoulder.

Slowly, the cook lowered himself back onto Zoro’s hips. He could feel the warm trail of his flushed cock as it dragged down his chest and settled against his own. Without Sanji’s pants separating them, it was all heat and slipping skin from the wetness leaking out of Zoro’s tip. He felt the brush of cheek-on-cheek as the cook pulled them closer together, his light panting sounding loud and erotic in the swordsman’s ear. Lips sucked at his earrings, traveling under his jaw to the hollow of his throat where they worked to repay Zoro for the mark he’d probably left on the other man’s skin. The different stimulations were maddening, because they just weren’t enough. He bucked against Sanji’s length and received a harsh bite accompanied by a disapproving growl.

“I’m going crazy here, Cook. Are you gonna untie my hands, or were you planning to fuck me in this chair because I’m not sure the logistics will work out.”

“Shut up,” Sanji snapped, reaching down to hold their two lengths together in a tight grip. “If you have a little patience, I promise to give you want you want,” he said, pumping lazily to slick up their shafts.

“I haven’t heard Nami say much—maybe we’re boring her,” Zoro prompted, hoping to convince the cook to pick up the pace for the lady.

“You can’t see her,” he whispered, “but she’s been watching us so closely—like she’s mapping our bodies with her eyes. It’s pretty…intense.” 

“You’re getting really into this, aren’t you? I can tell by your voice. You sound fucking hot.”

“Yeah? Even though this was your idea, maybe I _am_ the biggest pervert.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Actually, take your own advice and shut up. I wanna feel you in me.”

“Keep talking like that, and you can have anything you want,” Sanji growled, smashing their lips together.

“I’m confused—do you want me to shut up or not?” Zoro teased, dragging another growl out of the cook when he broke their kiss.

“I honestly never know with you.”

“The problem is that you have such a volatile personality—anything I say could go either way. I’ve said the same thing that made you happy one day, and it just pissed you off the next.”

“Fuck off—I’m whimsical, and it’s endearing!”

“Just kiss me, you psychopath.”

Sanji obliged, slipping his tongue into the waiting cavern of Zoro’s mouth to lick and suck on the swordsman’s. They leaned into each other, eliminating the last inch between their flushed skin and fitting their bodies together with practiced ease. The cook was slowly losing his cool, their kisses becoming more passionate and less controlled as the blond lost himself in the feeling of his lover. He couldn’t seem to sit still, constantly sliding his hands over the swordsman’s bronze skin while grinding his ass impatiently against Zoro’s cock. When the sensations seemed to overwhelm him, Sanji broke their kiss to pant a quick demand into his partner’s ear.

“Zoro. Fuck me.”

He sounded completely breathless—desperate even—which could only mean that his inhibitions had been completely silenced by his intense lust. Sanji only got this way when he was extremely horny—when he lost his grip on reality and could think of nothing but Zoro and the pleasure they were sharing. If the swordsman hadn’t been wearing the blindfold, he was sure he would be seeing the cook’s cheeks, flushed scarlet in the heat of passion, his visible eye glazed over and wanting. Zoro could picture it perfectly, and the fact that he couldn’t _see_ it had become almost torturous. He pressed his lips against the side of Sanji’s throat, whispering against his sweaty skin.

“Did you forget about our compromise, Cook?”

“Fuck the compromise!” Sanji snapped, sounding wild and very, very non-negotiable. Zoro was familiar with the sound of his voice when he was in this state, so even though his conscience told him that he should remind the blond why he’d been so adamant about Nami not seeing him like this, he instinctively caved to the other man’s request.

“Untie my hands if you want it so bad. I can’t do much like this,” Zoro told him with an eager smile.

“Nice try, but I’m still the one in charge, marimo.”

“Really? ‘Cuz it kinda seems like you’re begging.”

“Tch. Shut up and let me remind you that you’re not the only one who can be a power bottom,” Sanji replied cockily. The swordsman felt him shift his weight, but the cook never left his lap. From what Zoro could tell with his other senses, his lover was currently leaning into a back-bend that would be impossible for a normal man in this position. Sanji, however, was able to remain seated on the swordsman’s lap while reaching behind himself in what must surely be a delicious arc of his long, lean body. More than ever, Zoro wished that he could see the blond’s flexible torso as it stretched and curved over his knees.

A moment later, the cook righted himself and gripped the swordsman’s cock with slick hands. Zoro gasped at the sudden feeling of cold wetness sliding along his shaft, which immediately solved the mystery of why Sanji had been bending that way—he’d reached over his head to snatch a bottle of lube from whatever piece of furniture Nami had in front of Zoro’s chair. He let his head fall back as the cook began stroking him with quick, impatient movements, spreading the lubricant along his length. It was a little frustrating, letting Sanji take care of the preparations, because the blond was clearly desperate to have the swordsman inside him and wasn’t bothering with his usual skill. Zoro had always loved how the cook touched him. Those talented hands had quickly picked up techniques that drove the swordsman wild, and sometimes he genuinely didn’t know which he preferred on his cock—Sanji’s hands or his mouth.

Once he was properly slicked, the cook raised his hips to position himself above the swordsman’s weeping erection, leaning forward to drag his tongue along the shell of Zoro’s ear. Sanji favoured his left side because the three golden earrings made a distinct sound whenever he licked or bit him there. That sound had long since become synonymous with sex, which had led to some very awkward boners around the ship whenever the cook surprised him by leaning in and causing them to jangle teasingly.

“I’m gonna ride you until I’ve had my fill, shitty-swordsman,” Sanji growled deeply. In one smooth movement, he impaled himself on Zoro’s cock until he was fully seated, which managed to pull a surprised moan from the green-haired man. He should've expected a quick entry since they’d already loosened themselves up earlier in the shower, but it was still a shock to have his cock enveloped so suddenly by the cook’s tight, wet heat.

“Fuck—fucking hell, Sanji. What happened to the love-cook’s signature slow and steady build-up?”

“I must’ve left it outside—with my masculine pride, apparently,” he grumbled, having finally remembered his earlier insistence that Zoro be the one getting fucked.

“What could be manlier than taking a dick up the ass?”

“And so effortlessly, too,” Nami teased from beside them. Zoro swore he could feel a flash of heat from the cook’s blushing face at the comment. His body went rigid with embarrassment, ass clenching around the base of the swordsman’s cock. He hissed at the constricting feeling and debated whether it would be worth begging Sanji to hurry up and _move_ before his dick fell off. Instead, he gathered his wits and sought out the cook’s ear, pressing their foreheads together and speaking in a calming whisper.

“Relax and focus on _me_. Nami obviously knows that we do this all the time, and she doesn’t think any less of us for it. It doesn’t matter who tops or who bottoms—we’re fucking _each other,_ Cook.”

“You’re still tied to a chair, though, so technically I have the upper-hand,” Sanji replied smugly.

“Then use it already!” Zoro complained. He was trying not to squirm against the cook’s strong thighs, but the warm ring of pressure assaulting his most sensitive member was beginning to become uncomfortably stimulating. He buried his face in Sanji’s collarbone and silently begged him to follow through with his assertion that he was going to be a power bottom.

Slowly, the tension in the slimmer man’s body began to melt away as he relaxed into the swordsman. Lips pressed unexpectedly against Zoro’s mouth as the cook raised himself a few inches, sliding up his lover’s cock and flexing his strong muscles. Zoro almost cried out when Sanji clenched around his head, but he managed to hold it in for all of half a second before the cook abruptly slammed back down, burying the swordsman inside him. They gasped in unison, Sanji shuddering above him while Zoro moaned at the feeling of being in so deep. He could feel every inch of the cook’s inner walls massaging his cock—heating it with his body’s warmth. The swordsman’s brain was so focused on the sensations at his groin that he barely registered the biting pain at his wrists from his unconscious struggle to free his hands from the bonds. He wanted desperately to touch Sanji, to grip his sides, lift him, and thrust up into that wet heat, but he could barely raise his own hips, let alone roll them into the cook. He had no choice but to throw his head back and just enjoy the ride. 

Sanji was gaining momentum now, studiously ignoring the watchful eyes of their audience and setting a decent pace as he fucked himself on Zoro’s cock. The swordsman could feel each individual muscle in the cook’s powerful thighs as he moved above him. It was because of how well he knew Sanji’s body that he was able to create an accurate mental picture of the blond without his eyesight. He’d seen those muscles flex a thousand times, beautifully toned and lean enough that they didn’t appear even half as deadly as they were—perfect beneath pale, flawless skin.

Some days Zoro would wake up next to the blond and was overwhelmed by the fact that Sanji was _his._ He had permission to touch every inch of his gorgeous body—something that no man had ever had the right to do. Although Sanji had been with women in the past, there was one place that Zoro was sure even those girls hadn’t gotten to touch, and that was inside the cook’s most private place. He was feeling like that now, overwhelmed by his incredible luck and Sanji’s willingness to give himself to the swordsman, and it was a privilege that Zoro would be thankful for until the day he died.

Fuck, he loved this idiot.

“Sanji…”

The name slipped out as his emotions swelled to a breaking point. It felt so good that he could barely think, let alone speak, and the combination with physical stimulation was making his head swim dizzily. He had to come so badly that something inside him had started to ache for it, but he knew that the cook wouldn’t be satisfied until they switched positions. Zoro imagined the many ways that he might be fucked once they actually made it to the bed, which gave him the motivation to resist his body’s need and stretch his endurance. This left no room for rational thought—all he could do was capture Sanji’s mouth with his own and murmur the cook’s name over and over again against his perfect lips. From the stuttering gasps he was receiving in response, it seemed like Sanji was no better off than he was.        

“Oh God, Zoro—shit. Shit, I need to…”

“Hands, Cook. My hands,” he begged. If he didn’t touch Sanji soon, he really might lose it. It was like going without food or water—the longing to feel more of him was excruciating and all-consuming—he couldn’t take much more of it. “Please, Sanji. _Please!”_

The cook actually whined at that, long and loud. He rolled his hips forward and squeezed with his lower body, sliding his hands behind the chair so that he could release the knots. After a lot of fumbling, Sanji growled in frustration and resumed his assault on Zoro’s mouth, pressing angry kisses at his throat in between words. “Stupid…fucking knots...I can’t… _fuck!_ ”

He was still seated on Zoro’s lap, as deep as biology would allow, and his erection tickled the hard planes of the swordsman’s stomach as he squirmed and attempted to undo Nami’s overly-efficient bonds. Finally, the desperation was too much for them both, and Zoro sighed with a mixture of impatience and relief when the cook stood above him, letting his cock slip out and erasing all contact. Suddenly, he could only feel the hardness of the chair beneath him and the cool air on his flushed skin. His heart was still beating madly, pumping blood into his throbbing member, which seemed to stand taller in search of Sanji’s delicious heat.

Without warning, he was toppled forward until his knees hit the carpet, head hanging awkwardly as he bent with the shape of the chair. The wooden backrest was yanked out from the circle of his arms, which screamed in brief protest as his limited flexibility was challenged. Sanji must have moved the chair aside and was now kneeling behind the swordsman, grinding his erection against the base of Zoro’s spine. A gentle kiss was pressed into the skin below his ear, gold bars jangling.

“Zoro?”

“What is it?! What could you _possibly_ have to say to me right now, Cook?” he panted impatiently.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Seriously?! YES. I know that. We can exchange heartfelt sentiments another time—for God’s sake, just fuck me!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer.”

“It’s fine, just— _ah!_ Sh-shit!”

In one smooth motion, the cook thrust past the ring of muscle that had been conveniently stretched during their earlier encounter in the shower, dragging a surprised gasp out of the swordsman. The stinging pain was familiar and not unexpected, but the feeling of fullness was something that would never cease to take Zoro’s breath away. When Sanji pushed into him from behind, he felt like a lock that had just been fitted with the perfect key, and the cook knew exactly how to work his inner mechanisms until his body’s reactions were completely open and unrestrained.

They had nothing to hide when they were connected like this, and it was that vulnerability—the unabashed baring of their bodies and souls—that made exhibitionism such a turn on. He could feel Nami’s eyes fixated on the display—could hear the sound of her excited breathing and sense the racing of her heartbeat. It was exhilarating to know that he and the cook had caused it and had so thoroughly captured her attention. Zoro’s breath caught in his throat as he was suspended in the moment of entry, his insides folding around the cook’s impressive length and twitching with anticipation. He nearly cried out in ecstasy when Sanji’s fingers wrapped around his hips to stabilize him as the blond rocked backwards and thrust in even deeper.

He could still taste the cook in his mouth from sucking his cock earlier, but he imagined that it was because of the incredible pressure filling his entire body, and his throat clenched in response to the feeling of being fucked so deep. Something inside him stirred as Sanji continued thrusting, gaining momentum as best he could while holding Zoro’s shoulders parallel to the floor. His knees burned from moving against the rough carpet, so he was thankful that the cook’s lean figure didn’t affect his ability to match Zoro’s strength—without the use of his hands, he wouldn’t have been able to properly brace himself if Sanji hadn’t been supporting him, which was fortunate since a rugburn on his face would be much harder to explain than a hickey.

His muscles were screaming at the awkward position, but the pain barely registered when every sensation was being overwhelmed by the intense pleasure building inside him. It was impossible to put something so unpredictable into words—sometimes the pressure would increase gradually until his orgasm hit him in slow waves or one intense burst while other times it would crash over him without warning, paralyzing his senses and surprising him into a total loss of control. The desperate need to come sprang to the forefront of his mind, overriding every other thought and stealing his ability to speak. An unintelligible whine slipped out, hands straining against the ropes at his wrists, but he was too overcome with lust to feel the usual embarrassment at making such a noise.

Sanji fucked him mercilessly until they were both trembling and panting from the effort. His body curled over the swordsman’s bulk, pinning him to the ground and whispering filthy things in the swordsman’s ear. Zoro barely registered his words—he was too lost in the moment, savouring it because he knew that he might never get a chance to be like this again with the cook. Sure, they had sex often enough, but Nami’s presence seemed to have lit a different kind of fire in the fighting cook, who rarely let out this kind of animalistic ferocity.

Their love-making tended to be either slow and sensual or fun and casual, though it was often a mixture of the two. When they were able to plan more intimate encounters away from the ship and the crew, they got to experiment with different fantasies and really let loose, but it had never been this raw and carnal—not since that first time in the galley when Sanji had finally given into his desires.

As strong as the swordsman was, Sanji was just as strong—stronger when it came to lower body strength—so Zoro’s pleasure was nearly matched by his pain. It was beyond intense. He was glad that Sanji was able to show him this side of himself because Zoro _really_ liked rough sex, and it had been a while since they’d indulged in it.

The swordsman’s mind jumped to the most recent time they’d done something similar to this and shivered at the memory, which was more painful than anything the cook was currently subjecting him to. It had been two months back, when they’d been docked at a large enough island that it was possible to find a separate hotel from their curious nakama. During a particularly steamy make-out session, Sanji had agreed to let Zoro tie him up in the heat of the moment. They’d tried bondage before, but it had always been Zoro on the receiving end simply because the cook had quickly discovered that the swordsman had a bit of a fetish for pain.    

They would never forget that night because it had led to the crumbling of the cook’s last remaining walls. After that, there had been no secrets between them, but Zoro sometimes wished that he could take it all back whenever he thought about the haunted look on his lover’s face. As it turned out, Sanji did _not_ enjoy being restrained—neither of them had anticipated that it would remind him of traumatic experiences from his past, specifically, when he’d been locked up and hidden away by his sociopathic family at the tender age of eight. The darkness created by the blindfold they’d used and the ropes preventing him from moving his limbs had unexpectedly brought those terrible memories to the surface and caused the bravest man that Zoro knew to cry out in panic…

_Zoro paused when he felt Sanji’s body stiffen beneath him, confused when a stuttered gasp left his lover’s mouth. It was not the sound of someone overcome by their lust—it was the quiet sob of someone on the verge of falling apart at the seams. He immediately felt the tension building in the cook’s slim frame, which had began shaking with strain beneath the soft ropes at his wrists, torso, and ankles._

_“No…God, no…” Sanji murmured, unconsciously thrashing in his bonds._

_Zoro immediately pulled out, slipping the blindfold off the other man’s face in a gentle motion that swept the cook’s hair fringe back, revealing a second eye that the swordsman was surprised to see filling with tears. The cook appeared shell-shocked and distant as though his mind were so faraway that he wasn’t seeing what was in front of him. When Sanji’s lip suddenly trembled and another sob broke out from deep within his chest, Zoro felt his heart drop into his stomach unpleasantly._

_“H-hey, what’s the matter? Sanji, answer me!” he said shakily, bringing a hand to the cook’s face to cup his cheek with his palm. “Did I hurt you?”_

_Sanji blinked rapidly, clearing the moisture from his eyes and sending it cascading down his face in rivers. His breath hitched, torso rising and falling in three quick bursts, before he suddenly wrenched his bound hands out of the swordsman’s gentle grip and cradled them to his chest, curling in on himself._

_“T-take them off…TAKE THEM OFF!” he snapped wildly, twisting to the side and yanking desperately at the ropes constricting his movement._

_Zoro felt the blood draining from his face at the sound of such naked distress in his lover’s voice, and he hastened to undo the knots at the his wrists with trembling fingers. As soon as Sanji’s hands were free, he clutched at his head with splayed fingers, running them over his hair and face just to confirm that he could. The ropes fell away from his body one by one, and he pulled his elbows and knees into his chest._

_Zoro had no idea how long he sat in the fetal position, not even acknowledging that the swordsman was there trying to comfort him, and always, always, with his hands holding his head. It wasn’t until much later that Zoro would understand why. Sanji’s father had once put him in a dark cell—kept him from seeing the sun for six months—and covered his head with a metal mask that was only unlocked when they needed to feed him. For someone who had not only been imprisoned as a child, but had also spent an even longer period of time stranded on a barren rock—utterly helpless to stop the slow process of starvation eating away at his body, and so shortly after he’d finally tasted freedom, too—it was no wonder that Sanji had been triggered by the complete restriction of his movements._

_Zoro hadn’t understood that in the moment. He simply covered the cook’s shaking form with a soft bed-sheet and held him—held him for hours with no questions asked while the blond leaned into him and sobbed. He stroked his hair, kissed his face, and ran his hands soothingly over every inch of Sanji’s body so he could feel that he wasn’t alone. Eventually, the wracking sobs subsided into tired whimpers, and then a measure of clarity re-entered his shaken mind, and the idiot actually tried to apologize._

_“Zoro…I'm…I’m sor—”_

_“Don’t. It’s okay, Sanji. I’m here—I love you.”_

_Hearing that from the honest swordsman had started a second round of quiet tears, which seemed to run until the cook was completely dry of them, and Zoro continued holding him until he finally fell asleep in the circle of his lover's arms. When Sanji awoke a few hours later, he froze stiffly and clenched his fingers in the fabric of the other man's shirt. Zoro kept holding him in silence, rubbing slow circles into the sweaty skin of his back, until every last bit of tension had melted away. Once the cook was able to breathe calmly again, puffing away at his trademarked cigarette, he turned to Zoro and spoke of his past._

_“I…was born with the name Sanji Vinsmoke,” he whispered, sounding distinctly like a man pronouncing his own death sentence. Zoro listened to him calmly, though he was nearly overwhelmed with anger and hatred inside as the cook finally revealed his mysterious origins. The haunted expression on his face permanently etched itself in the swordsman’s memory along with the horrific details of Sanji’s struggles._

_"I was the third son of a royal family of assassins. My father was a scientist who experimented on his five children when we were still in our mother’s womb. He was trying to create offspring with superhuman abilities, so we could lead the Germa Kingdom after he died. My mother took a drug to prevent his modifications from affecting her children, but it only worked on me, and she died—it killed her. My siblings tormented me for years because I was weak…_ human. _My father said I was a failure. He faked my death and had me locked away so that I couldn’t disgrace him. I was only able to stay sane because I still had a dream—I wanted to become a cook and find the All Blue...”_

No, Zoro would never forget that night. He still hoped, against Sanji’s wishes, that he would be able to meet these Vinsmokes one day—so that he could kill them all, of course. They had actually thought the cook was weak— _ha!_ If only they had any idea how far he’d come, surpassing normal “human” capabilities years ago, and all with his own power, too. Sanji truly was the strongest man that Zoro had ever known and would ever meet—he believed that more than he believed Luffy would become King of the Pirates—and he was truly honored to be able to give the cook all of the love that he deserved.

“Hands…my hands…” he panted, twisting around to look towards the cook despite being unable to see him. In his mind’s eye, Sanji was covered in a light sheen of sweat, face flushed and chest heaving. He was utterly perfect and sexy, bent over the swordsman with a lust-filled gaze as though he were in a trance—unable to focus on anything other than Zoro, his precious Nami-san forgotten. “Bed, Cook.”

“Yeah,” Sanji agreed, nodding sluggishly. He was running out of energy, or rather, he was switching to a lower gear as he released the other man’s arms from the ropes and slowly turned him around. Zoro gasped as the cock slipped from inside him, but he quickly accepted the offered lips as a substitute, kissing the other man fiercely. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, dragging the blond onto his lap and wrapping those gorgeous legs around him. Sanji locked himself in place, long limbs draping themselves around his lover as he began sucking gently at the swordsman’s tongue. They didn’t break the passionate kiss even as Zoro lifted him by the waist and stood up straight, walking them quickly to the provided bed with the guidance of his haki. He wasted no time in deposited the cook on the mattress and pinning his long body beneath his own.

Sanji immediately arched up against him and let out a small gasp at the feeling of their members sliding against one another. His hands scraped delicious lines into the swordsman’s back as Zoro seated himself inside the blond by feeling alone. His desire to see his lover had become a bone-deep ache, but the second he made a move to rip off the blindfold, Sanji growled in warning and bit roughly into the swordsman’s shoulder. His dangerous legs caught Zoro in a vice-like grip, abruptly flipping their positions in one smooth motion until they settled in the middle of the bed with the cook straddling his waist.

Suddenly, Sanji jerked in obvious surprise, his body going rigid as something distracted him from their current activity. He slid his hands up the swordsman’s chest, leaning over him to whisper an explanation into his ear. 

“Don’t look now,” he started ironically, “but it seems that Robin-chan didn’t want to be left out. Her eyes have been watching us from the wall behind Nami-san.”

“That’s a little creepy. I wonder what she’s doing right now on her night-watch…all alone in the crow’s nest…” Zoro hinted, amused by the idea of a second voyeur joining in on their little performance.

“D-don’t make such lewd insinuations about a lady!” Sanji said reproachfully, but he sounded rather aroused by the notion nonetheless.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she were the biggest pervert of us all, Cook. How does it feel, knowing an older woman is enjoying our erotic display?” he asked with a demonstrative roll of his hips.

Sanji groaned brokenly in response and began a slow pace as he fucked himself on Zoro’s cock, which had become impossibly harder at this unexpected news…although, perhaps it wasn’t all that unexpected considering the woman they were talking about. He sometimes wondered if Robin would be a freak in bed—her devil fruit powers would certainly come in handy. Pun intended.

“Fuck…remind me again why I had reservations about doing this?” Sanji asked with a moan.

“Because you’re an idiot with more masculine pride than any one person has a right to,” Zoro told him good-naturedly. “I’m glad you came around, though. Your precious ladies are never going to forget this.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“How long do you think it’ll be before Nami can look either of us in the eye again?”

Sanji laughed, albeit, a little hysterically. “You know what?...I don’t think I care.”

Zoro felt his eyebrows raise at that slightly uncharacteristic admission, breaking out into a pleased grin that he knew the cook was no doubt mirroring. “I love you, Sanji.”

In lieu of an answer, the blond darted forwards and kissed him with enough force to drive him an inch into the soft mattress. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the uncomfortable shifting of their navigator from her front-row seat. Sanji didn’t appear to notice it at all—not even when she quietly stood from her chair and slipped out of the room. A few seconds later, the looming presence of their curious archaeologist also disappeared, leaving behind the subtle scent of flower blossoms lingering in the air.

Zoro took the opportunity to distract his impassioned lover, gripping his slim waist to raise him up a few inches and get better leverage for the _real_ show. Sanji’s fingers threaded into his short hair, tugging reflexively at the green strands when the swordsman thrust up into his tight heat. The fire inside his belly increased as the cook matched his pace, raising himself with the strength of his legs and slamming back down in time with Zoro’s rolling hips. He seemed to have completely lost any ability to withhold his panted moans, and the swordsman was just as far gone, if not more.

The blond’s cock was steadily dripping come onto the flat planes of the swordsman's abdomen, signaling the fast approach of his orgasm, so Zoro’s fumbling hands gripped him at the base, dragging a desperate whine out of the blond when the motion was not followed by the usual strokes to completion. Perhaps it was cruel to prolong it when Sanji so clearly wanted his touch to finish him off, but the swordsman was suddenly overcome with the desire for this moment to never end—he wanted to be like this with his cook forever. Even as the insistent need to find his own orgasm became nearly unbearable, Zoro still didn’t want it to end…he wanted Sanji on him—or in him (he wasn’t picky about the logistics)—indefinitely.

That wasn’t exactly a practical thing to wish, but he wished it nonetheless. They were connected to one another on more than just a physical level—it was a soul-deep connection that tied their hopes and dreams together, giving them twice the motivation to fight. He wanted everything that Sanji wanted, but he also wanted to protect him from the things that might hurt him like his awful, twisted excuse for a family, the seemingly endless enemies they would encounter on the Grand Line, and the disappointment of knowing that his dream—the All Blue—was little more than a joke to the rest of the world, save for one stubborn old man. Zoro was determined to be Sanji’s everything— _he_ would be the cook’s family, his greatest adversary, and the biggest supporter of that precious dream.

Everything he could ever need.

A single tear splashed onto his collar, bringing the swordsman back from the swirling vortex of his tumultuous thoughts. He suddenly realized that the blond could feel what he was feeling through his haki, which had always been more advanced at reading other people’s emotions, and Zoro’s heart was completely bared in that moment.

“Sanji—”

“I love you,” the cook said breathlessly, his voice quivering slightly. “I fucking love you, Roronoa Zoro.”

“I know,” he replied instantly, claiming his lover’s lips in a soft kiss. Sanji sighed into his mouth and then let out a loud cry as the swordsman buried himself even deeper inside him. The blond trembled in his arms—whether from the force of his thrust or the force of his feelings, Zoro couldn’t say—and they came within a split second of each other, spilling their warmth in a spectacular burst of blinding, shivering pleasure.

It took longer than it should have for Zoro to realize that Sanji had removed his blindfold moments before. He blinked at the sudden brightness encompassing his field of vision and immediately zeroed in on the cook. His blond hair was a tousled mess, revealing the wild passion in both of his eyes, which were fixated on Zoro’s flushed face, and the swordsman thought that there was nothing more beautiful in this world than his lover looking so thoroughly ravished.    

Sanji just looked at him, his intense gaze sweeping over every inch of Zoro as they both took a minute to bask in the warm after-glow of sex and calm their racing hearts. He looked at him for a long, long time, never wavering. They didn’t need words to express what they were feeling—they rarely ever did. After a timeless moment of blissful silence, Zoro wrapped his arms around the other man, carding his fingers though the soft blonde locks to muss them up even further. The cook shot him a cheeky grin and dropped a quick peck on his nose.

“Well, that was…something else,” he concluded softly, succumbing to his weariness and melting into the swordsman’s form. Zoro held him gently against his chest, trailing light fingers over pale skin wherever he could reach. Sanji lay there in glorious content, absentmindedly drawing his own patterns on tanned skin until he finally noticed the absence of their lovely voyeurs.

“Wha—did Nami-san leave?” he asked suddenly, though he didn’t move an inch from his place tangled up with the swordsman.

“Your observation haki could use a little more work, Cook.”

“Sh-shut up, marimo—I was obviously distracted.”

“Mmm-hmm…”

“I wonder what made her want to skip out on that rather exceptional finale?” he mused, surprisingly not seeming the least bit put-out.  

“Maybe she was getting a little _too_ into it and had to leave because she couldn’t join in. Although, it would've been interesting if she'd tried,” Zoro said slyly. 

“What the fuck, bastard? Don’t say shit like that! I won’t _ever_ share you—not even with Nami-san.”

The swordsman chuckled and pressed a kiss against the other man’s blond head to sooth his growing irritation. “Not even for our two-year anniversary?” he asked insincerely—he had absolutely no desire to share the cook either.

Sanji jabbed a bony elbow into Zoro’s side, silencing him with an angry grimace. “ _Never,_ ” he insisted darkly.

“I can pretty much guarantee that I won’t ever ask that of you, Cook…you’re mine.”

“Good,” he grumbled, snuggling back into the swordsman. He yawned slowly, his eyelids fluttering shut as fatigue started creeping up on him. Zoro accepted the silence gratefully since he was admittedly feeling quite tired as well. He hoped the sea-witch wasn’t planning on returning to kick them out of her room after all that because he didn’t want to move a goddamn inch from this spot—not with Sanji laying on top of him looking so cute and satisfied.

“Goodnight, Cook.”

“Hmm…yours…” Sanji murmured, having already fallen asleep.

Zoro smiled.

* * *

“Robin?”

“Yes, Nami?”

“I uh…I’m a little too wired to go to sleep. Do you mind if I sit with you during your watch?”

“Of course not. I’m feeling quite invigorated myself…I take it you enjoyed the cook and the swordsman’s performance?”

“I can’t believe you were watching! It’s not fair—I had to make a deal with them, but you got to see it for free,” she pouted as she quietly entered the dark crow’s nest and took a seat beside the older woman. “Although, _technically,_ the promise to erase their debts only covers the portion that they’d racked up as of _last_ year,” she said slyly, grinning at her clever loophole.

Robin laughed cutely and shot the navigator a secretive glance. “I apologize for being so bold, but I simply couldn’t help myself. I must admit that I’ve been stuck in a bit of a dry spell for far too long.”

“R-Robin! What are you talking about? You could have any man you want!”

“Perhaps…but sometimes men can be boring—don’t you think?”

Nami snorted delicately, eyeing her friend with disbelief. “You can’t possibly tell me that _that_ was boring.”

“No, that was definitely a rare treat, and I’m truly honored to have witnessed it. It isn’t often that one gets to experience such love even second-hand.”

“They really do love each other,” Nami said with a sigh. “It isn’t hard to see, although I didn’t believe my eyes at first. I had to leave the room because I just felt like…I don’t know…like I was intruding on something private. I’m honestly a little jealous,” she admitted quietly.

“Is that so?”

“It’s just that it’s so hard to find a man who'll care about me for _me_ , you know? I’m just a beautiful, unattainable figure of romanticism—all men want is to feel like they’ve won me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that because I personally think that you are an amazing person who, of course, deserves nothing short of the very best…but…well, you could have had Sanji-kun all to yourself if you had accepted his affections earlier,” Robin reminded her.

Nami waved that comment off instantly, shaking her head in denial. “He could never see me the way he sees Zoro. It would’ve been nothing but those annoying fluttering hearts and the constant whine of ‘ _Nami-swaaan_ ~~~♥!’ every day for the rest of my life,” she said, sounding exasperated.

“Well, what about Swordsman-san?” Robin suggested half-jokingly.

“He’s only ever had eyes for Sanji-kun—and besides, I could never be with a man that stoic. It would become extremely tiresome.”

“Perhaps your problem with men could be solved if you simply cut them out of the equation…”

Nami flushed at this less-than-subtle implication and avoided her crewmate’s charming gaze. “D-don’t be silly…that’s…”

“Hmm?” Robin pressed.

“…”

“…”

“…maybe not the _worst_ idea,” Nami finished with an awkward cough.

Robin’s musical laughter seemed to replace the darkness of the crow’s nest with a pleasant tension, causing Nami to shiver despite the warmth spreading throughout her body.

Silence fell between them, and both women reflected on the events of the past year—the dangers their crew had experienced together, the growing relationship between their cook and swordsman, and the nagging desire in the back of their minds to have what Sanji and Zoro had...a love that went beyond nakamaship and the whispered promise of a pair of arms (or _pairs_ of arms, perhaps, Nami thought) to hold you at the end of the day.

“Lucky bastards…” she said with a mischievous smile aimed Robin’s way. “So…I doubt our room will be available at least until morning. You really don’t mind if I stay here?”

The smiling archaeologist tipped her head in acquiescence, uncrossing and re-crossing her long fishnet-clad legs with feline grace.

“It would be my _pleasure_ …”

 

**♥ THE END♥**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, what's that? Sudden yuri side-plot????? If people express an interest, I might consider doing a bonus chapter with NamixRobin. I think it would be interesting to incorporate her devil fruit powers into a smut scene...don't you think? ;)


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